Behind the Veil
by StycianLeo
Summary: After the final battle, our hero takes time to mourn the lost; for all his tribulations Magic itself gives him the opportunity to regain his loved ones and perhaps make a few more. For that opportunity, no price is too high. Rated M, FemHarry/TMR and more
1. Prologue

Summary: After the final battle, our hero takes time to mourn the lost; for all his tribulations Magic itself gives him the opportunity to regain his loved ones and saved them from death's embrace. For that opportunity, no price is too high. Rated M for future content

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

by StycianLeo

**Prologue**

**Godric's Hollow, UK**

**October 31 1999**

Reality dictates that for everything that is done, it must come at a cost; in economics this is known as the opportunity cost. The cost of partaking in one action means that another action did not take place; but for every action that comes to place, for every decision there comes a split in reality. As such, there is no one universe but a multitude of universes where every decision that is possible comes to realization.

A year has passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, where history was forged by the hands of a few brave souls against the onslaught that the Dark Lord Voldemort wrought upon the magical world; he brought his hatred to bear upon the castle that had been his home and his hell throughout his youth. The battle had claimed the lives of many on both sides, all of whom had been loved by someone; so in the wake of the conflict the British magical community had allowed themselves to mourn, and when they could cry no more, they had begun to rebuild their world. But wounds do not heal quickly when they come to matters of the soul, and for some there were more wounds then others.

As was the case for one Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior, the Hero of Hogwarts; a man who had ventured into the midst of his enemy to face certain death to shed the piece of Voldemort's soul that had buried itself within him and in the end it had been the will of the Elder Wand in its refusal to kill its true master that had but the Dark Wizard in his grave. Despite his triumph at ending the magical war and earning the adoration of the public who had all but sainted him it did not curb his grief nor return the dead to him.

Thus, the raven haired young man stood in the remains of Godric's Hollow where his home once stood; the grounds had been cleared and a small plot of graves and memorial stones had been placed. Samhain night had always been a night of misfortune for Harry, but it was also the day to honor the dead and it was only fitting in his mind to spend some time here to observe the departed who had shaped his life. "Hey Mum, Dad; long time no see, sorry about that but I've been kind of busy. We've finished repairing Hogwarts so it'll be ready come next fall, I don't think I'll be returning; in all honesty it isn't really necessary anymore, Hermione's been intent that we finish our Masteries so between her and the Ministry's hero worship I doubt I'll have any issue getting any job I want…"

The young man sighed to himself, a heaviness to it that belied his seemingly calm disposition as he stepped forward and sat between the graves of his parents, his back resting against the marble headstone. Even here, nearly a year after the death of the Dark Lord he could not bring himself to shed his tears of grief for fear of displaying his weakness; because there were so many people out there who truly wished him harm for his actions. True, many Death Eaters had fled or been incarcerated following the death of the lord but many had hung around, falling into obscurity in the hopes that there would be a chance to strike out in vengeance against Harry Potter.

"… It's hard to do this, y'know? I know you guys are watching over me but it's still so hard to wake up each morning; I've basically lost all ties to my family… first Sirius, then Remus, even Dumbledore is gone. And so many people are gone too, hell I even miss Snape!" Harry said with a rueful smirk as he shook his head, his bangs falling in front of his hair as the chilly wind picked up and sliced through his black robes. As he sat their he wallowed in all his grief, and guilt in having survived when so many had fallen and there all alone he let himself cry, harsh sobs wracked his body as he let all those bottled emotions out.

When his body finally stilled, Harry was spent finally having allowed himself to properly mourn rather than put up the brave façade of the unbreakable hero so that everyone else could feel at ease and grieve. But as his emotions finally settled he could feel that he was no longer alone, there was a presence that watched him; paranoia had become a part of his life after the last few attempts on his life by remnant forces but this presence did not feel malevolent or hostile, it just seemed to be there observing him.

With a growl, the young man raised himself up; a flick of his wrist had his holly wand falling into the palm of his hand from the concealed holster on his forearm. Raising the instrument, Harry cast a look around as he got into a dueling stance, "Come out! I know you're here!" He yelled out as he bared his teeth in a furious snarl, how dare anyone intrude upon his privacy at the graves of his parents. It took a moment but Harry noticed that abject silence of the area, there was no sound but that of his breathing in the graveyard; even the wind had stilled as he waited for the entity to make itself present and in that absence of sound did he hear it. It was a soft sound, a whisper under someone's breath for instance but somehow all around him no point of origin could be discerned. His whole body was tense, and Harry quietly began to scuff a rune into the turf beneath his feet; in the year since he had defeated Voldemort Harry had come into his power, he was already a formidable wizard in his own right as an accomplished duelist but he had proceeded to earn his Masteries in Defense against the Dark Arts and had taken up the study of Ancient Runes which had only furthered his skill and capabilities as he had become quite adept at warding and curse breaking.

The whispers seemed to come to a head and Harry could make out the words in the stillness, it was a soft voice, ethereal in nature but it sounded exceedingly strange; almost as if several people were speaking at the same time making it impossible to assign a gender to the voice as it was both masculine and feminine simultaneously, lilting beautifully and resonating deeply. "I hear your sorrow Harry Potter; you have suffered much in your short time, and accomplished much for the happiness of so many before your own. Your desire can be granted, a chance to regain what has been lost."

Harry could feel the presence behind the softly spoken, the power that made his own formidable strength seem small in comparison, it was quite possible that this power could grant his wish. "What are you? How can you bring them back!" he demanded, his voice did not waver as he spoke but he could feel the near knot in his gut that told him he needed to be on his toes.

The voice returned with a greater clarity then before, almost as if the voice had not been exercised in some time and was finally regaining it strength after long disuse. "I have held many names, but my personal favorite has been Hecate; it will suffice. However, what I offer is not as simple as bringing back your loves; I offer a second chance at life, a chance to correct your mistakes and perhaps save the people you couldn't. But there is a price…" The voice crooned out, the lilting soprano of a woman becoming more distinguished from the rest and a mist began to form in the graveyard around the young hero.

Looking around at the fog cautiously, Harry narrowed his eyes warily as he contemplated the offer; he had never been one to study mythology but this was a moment where he wished he had Hermione with him; she would know the significance of the entity's name. As it stood, he vaguely recalled a goddess by that name but he had never been very religious; not that anyone would blame him. With all the tragedy he had endured, how could anyone believe that there was a god or in this case a goddess. "I'm listening, w-what is your price?" he questioned hesitantly, whatever he was dealing with was powerful and sentient; but the offer was too good to just pass up dismissively.

"I require a champion, someone to carry out my will; you have proven yourself equal to the task, at seventeen you have faced the greatest trials that life can give you and weathered them while holding to your ideals. In exchange for your service, I will give you the chance to save all you love from their fates. Do you accept?" The mist began to converge before Harry as the terms were presented, the voice continued to come from everywhere at once but it had cleared until it became a well defined woman's voice; hauntingly beautiful as it was powerful. Before his eyes a woman came into being, gowned in a silver dress that shimmered with an otherworldly light; possessed of porcelain skin that was so pale it appeared translucent; long midnight hair cascaded down her back and riveting golden eyes stared out from behind a three faced mask.

The woman bespoke of a beauty and power that was not for man to own but to gaze upon was a rare event that Harry though should have rendered him blind. He swallowed thickly as he stared at Hecate at considered her offer; all he had to do was be her champion, to serve as an extension of her desire and in return he would have the chance to save his parents, to save Sirius and Remus, Cedric and Tonks, Severus and Dumbledore; if that was the case, then so be it. He would serve, anything to give them a life! "I accept your offer; I will serve as your champion!" Harry's emerald eyes hardened with conviction as he pledged himself.

Hecate's face was hidden behind her mask but her voice had a definite pleased tone to it and he could practically hear the smile in her voice, "Very well then, time then to give you this second chance." As she spoke, the woman moved forward towards Harry, gingerly placing her hands on his shoulders as she leaned in and placed a kiss on his infamous lightning bolt scar; and then his world exploded in agony as he felt everything about him being torn away until there was just his raw essence and conscious; through this sheer pain he could feel what was left of him being compressed and pushed through a tube before he exploded outwards and crashed into a welcome blackness.


	2. Chapter I

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, HG/BZ, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, OC/OC

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: This will be my first Fanfic attempt so I'm hoping to get a lot of reviews and critiques on my work. If you like the prologue and the first chapter, please leave a review. Here's to an adventure that I'm looking forward to.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

****by StycianLeo

**Chapter I**

**Potter Residence, Warwickshire, England, UK**

**June 30, 1991**

**7:00 AM**

Oblivion, sweet blessed oblivion; was all Harry could think when his conscious mind finally begun to relax from the insufferable agony that had consumed his entire being. He didn't know what Hecate had done to him, but the sensation had been akin to being flayed alive while simultaneously being boiled in a vat of oil, and being set on fire. Of course, he had never really experienced any of those things but then again not many people had experienced their magical core and conscious being forcibly separated from their body and being shipped off to who knows where before crashing into what felt like a cramped and too small container. In fact, Harry was quite certain that no one had ever experienced what he had just gone through; chalk one more thing up to the Boy-Who-Lived's list of accomplishments and firsts. How he hated being the first one to experience these kinds of events, even the Cruciatus had not been that bad.

'Alright, let's check if we're still in one piece shall we?' Harry thought to himself as his waking mind began to access the situation; the first thing that came to mind was the softness that seemed to envelope him; whatever he was lying on was just heavenly, its seemed to encase him in its embrace; and the blanket that covered him felt exceedingly light but it made him feel so warm and cozy.

As Harry's mind processed this information, he began checked to see just what he was working with; toes wiggling, check; knees bending, check, hips moving, check; o far so good. Fingers moved. And hands clenched; arms were flexed and shoulders were rolled. Unwilling to open his eyes just yet Harry rolled his head from side to side and felt the strangest sensation. It felt like hair had just been brushed across his face but that wasn't possible; his hair was long and unruly but it wasn't nearly long enough. The idea came to him that perhaps he was laying beside someone that had long hair but how did that explain the sensation being on both sides of his head and the fact that he didn't feel anybody besides himself.

Without opening his eyes, Harry extended tendrils of magic to feel out the room he was in; he had definitely picked up some paranoid traits in the year and change since the war had ended but they had all been useful. He had strengthened his Occlumency properly and had begun learn Legilimancy before his encounter with Hecate, he was widely considered to be the best duelist in the United Kingdom considering his spell repertoire and his developed skill in silent casting, and his magical core was powerful; having finally reaching his physical maturity his power had blossomed fully and he was considered to be the equal to many of the wizarding worlds greatest wizards, perhaps as strong as Voldemort and Dumbledore in his own right. Still, in this case he was feeling out the magic in the room he was in with his own and coming up with nothing; the room he was in contained a fair number of enchanted objects but nothing powerful or cursed and he was definitely alone for the moment.

Curious about his surroundings but unwilling to abandon the comfort of his position, Harry opened his eyes slowly and took a deep breath as his eyes were besieged by the light coming in through the window of the room. The room was blurry to his eyes and he looked around himself for his glasses; although the act of doing so gave him to impressions, while blurry the room seemed to be large and inviting, the second was that he needed a haircut as long bangs feel in front of his eyes and obscured his sight. Spotting his glasses on the bedside table to his left, Harry reached out and took them up, slipping them onto the bridge of his nose and suddenly the world jumped into focus. His first impression was right, the room was definitely inviting; the walls were painted in a dark champagne color and the furniture was all made from a rich, brown wood that resembled mahogany.

The room was well laid out, the double bed he was laying in was across from the entry door and covered in sheets of spring green and lavender, beside the bed was a simple nightstand; topped with a clock and a small chest that he wagered was a jewelry box as well as a small journal of some kind and at the foot of the bed was a bench that doubled as a trunk. On the south side of the room was a large window that extended out from the room creating a small alcove in which one could sit on several cushions; besides the window and taking up a good deal of the wall space on either side were bookcases, the bookcases were not filled entirely but it was well populated although from some of the titles he could see this was not the home of a muggle family, he could see some titles like "Quidditch: Through the Ages" and "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" so it appeared to him that the bedroom was definitely that of a wizarding family.

On top of the bookcases were some table runners in colors of green edged in gold that looked nice compared to the wood furnishings, on the left bookcase he could clearly see what looked to be a small glass globe and several ornate books or decoration but he sensed that those books had enchantments of some kind as they had the feel of magic about them. On the right bookcase, there was a collection of figurines shaped as several animals and all of them were seemingly stirring to life as the morning light began to fill the room. In the southwest corner of the room was a door that led into a comfortable full bathroom, sink, sunken bath, standing shower and the porcelain all fitted in warm granite with brass finishes.

On the north side of the room was a writing desk of the same rich mahogany, carved into the wood were floral reliefs that were shaded in a trace amounts of gold leaf; the desk was neatly organize with parchment sitting on top beside an inkwell and a small cup holding several quills. In the northwest corner of the room was another door that from his current perspective led into some kind of walk in closet. In the northeast corner of the room, beside the bed was a full length mirror; and peering at this final object got Harry's attention.

As he peered at the mirror, he could see that besides his long bangs, his raven hair extended well past his shoulder. 'That doesn't make any sense' he thought to himself as he moved out of bed and his felt touched the surprisingly warm wooden floor. Taking a few steps he cast his gaze into the mirror and a scream of panic rose up in his throat as his eyes opened wide in shock; the figure reflecting back at him was not he; or rather it was but not really. The reflection in the mirror revealed a young girl, no more than ten or eleven years of age with long black hair that fell past her shoulder blades in an unruly mess of curls and waves; her skin was a fair tawny color, evidence of spending much time in the sun; her eyes were the same almond shape with the vibrant emerald green eyes that Harry had always been told were Lily's. The girl in the mirror looked enough like him that she could have passed as a sibling although there were definitely a few changes in the planes of her face, the higher cheekbones and the cupid bow lips that definitely bore a stronger resemblance to Lily then James; still the girl was fairly pretty… but why was he seeing a girl in the mirror in her nightgown.

"You accepted my offer Harry, you're my champion; but that requires a certain set of requirements that you were not capable of satisfying." Came the ethereal voice of Hecate, Harry jumped and looked around the room, startled as the goddess begin to form in the rays of sunlight; still clad in her silver gown the room seemed to dim as she glowed with a soft internal light.

"What do you mean I didn't satisfy the requirements? Where am I? Who am I?" Harry responded shrilly, his shock and confusion at this point prevented him from feeling enraged at what could have been construed as a great violation. However, as soon as the words slipped his mouth his eyes widened in surprise and he raised a hand to his throat as he realized how different his voice sounded. He knew he really shouldn't be surprised that his voice had changed, not when he had suddenly regressed and switched genders since in his mind a few moments before he was an adult male, but it was so foreign that he couldn't help but be surprised.

Hecate smiled at his reaction, whether finding it humorous or endearing was anyone's guess since she was still hidden behind that three faced mask but that smile in her voice was back again, "Allow me to answer your questions from easiest to hardest then, you are Harry James Potter possessing all of your memories and abilities; but you are also Iris Elizabeth Potter, daughter of Lily Potter nee Evans and James Potter. You are currently in the Potter residence in Warwickshire, along with your younger sister Liatris Dorea Potter and your parents." Hecate paused here to let her words sink in for a moment.

Harry or Iris as it were was stunned into silence and simply stared at the Goddess blankly, trying to come to terms with the information. He was a she, she had a sister and her parents were alive and living in a family home that she had not known about and she was terribly confused by everything. Hecate guided her champion to the bed and they settled on the edge of the bed, the Goddess placed her hands on the young girl's hand which had the instant effect of soothing her. "My champion must elect to be my representative willingly of their own free will and as champion; you will be a vessel of my power and an extension of my will among mankind amongst whom I cannot directly intervene. It is a testament to your nature and capabilities that you can look upon my form without being struck blind and deaf from my voice. However, being a vessel of my power requires the champion to be female; otherwise the power will tear you apart from the inside. In exchange for your service and sacrifice, I have given you the chance to be amongst your family that would have been; to have the chance to grant them long and lasting lives. Is this too high a price?" She asked gently, her dark gaze soft and kind upon the conflicted soul beside her.

Harry pondered her question for a moment, her presence and touch had stilled and calmed his mind; and while he could not decide if that was an affect of her magic or just the nature of the Goddess it allowed him to think rationally. 'I have my memories, my spells, my abilities, a family, and if this is my magic at this age then when I regain adulthood I can only assume that I will be increasingly powerful. So far it seems like a good deal, but this also means rethinking and relearning everything that I had thought to be adamant, everything that I took for certain has all gone out the window; but I have a chance to keep everyone safe this time, I have the chance to stop this war or at the very least contain it so that people may live. Isn't that worth the sacrifices that I have to make? Hell, half the world is female, if they can do it then why the hell can't I!' he thought to himself and felt the resolve hardening in him, he knew it was going to be strange and difficult but he knew that this was an opportunity that he would not back away from; not when so much was at stake.

"I can pay this price, I'm sure that this won't be easy, I'm absolutely positive that I'm going to have a monumental task ahead of me; but I'm certain that I can handle this." Harry spoke after a long internal deliberation, he looked up at the Goddess through the eyes of a young girl and there was a steely set to that gaze that belonged to a fighter of much greater age and Hecate felt the stirrings of what she could only think of as pride… and fear. She had created a force here, the young girl would grow to be an exceedingly powerful sorceress that would be unmatched in this world and with such power she could only hope that she had made the correct decision in choosing Harry as her champion, he had been incorruptible in his realm where he had been the victim of so much tragedy but here he would not have those same burdens and even to a Goddess the future was a fickle and uncertain thing changed every moment as decisions were made.

"Very well then, first of there are certain things you need to be aware of, today is June thirtieth, nineteen ninety-one; exactly one month before your eleventh birthday, and while you may know the events of your past things here are different, people are different, the entire timeline is different here because in this reality different decisions were made and those decisions had consequences. I will be watching you Harry, blessed be." Hecate said, her voice in that same kind and matronly tone as she leaned forward and placed a kiss on the girl's unblemished forehead before she faded from sight, taking with her the soothing calm that her presence had invoked in the youth.

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><p><strong>Potter Residence, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**June 30, 1991**

**10:00 AM  
><strong>

After Hecate had departed, Harry had taken the time to become familiar with the room that was currently his own; he had read through the journal on the bedside table and learned about Iris, which was apparently the name of the flower that Lily had chosen for her daughter. Iris had seemed to be remarkably organized for a ten year old; her journal had been quite informative about her interaction with her family. Liatris, the younger daughter was nine and apparently Iris' best friend besides being her sister; the two appeared to be inseparable although with severely differing tastes. In the years growing up, Iris had become an avid reader and was fairly studious while her sister had been the more outgoing and athletic of the two, though Iris had always been the better seeker to her sister's chase. She had attended tutoring sessions alongside several other children her age from wizarding families, learning math, literature, science and social studies; she was apparently best friends with one Daphne Greengrass, a pureblood witch that Harry had never really gotten to know in his own universe but from what Iris had written, the other witch had been nothing but kind to the introversive Iris and had been the charismatic extravert of the two.

The diary had provided that she had been the top student in those tutoring sessions and had enjoyed her learning, this had pleased Harry since his experiences with the DA had lead him to be more proactive with learning and educating himself as he taught others and further in his sixth year when he had worked with Snape's old textbook he had felt immense satisfaction in earning those top marks in potions. With a second chance to go through it again, he planned on giving Hermione a run for her money this time around for top student; although considering what Hecate had said it wasn't entirely certain that Hermione would be the most clever witch of her age anymore.

Still, the journal had provided additional insight into the family life of Iris Potter; Lily was a stay-at-home mom who served as the rallying point of the family, besides taking care of her daughters she was rather famous as a Charms and Potions Mistress, she had developed her own personal fortune in enchantments. James Potter was an Auror for the Ministry it appeared, he apparently worked nights and so spent much of the daylight hours sleeping before coming to dinner with his family but during the weekends it appeared that James liked nothing more than to dote upon his daughters and spent all day with them and his wife. Sirius and Remus both played fairly largely into Iris' life as well; Sirius was an Auror like James and the two were partners, he had spent some time overseas working on a case and returned home with an American fiancé, later to be his bride, they had a son named Pollux who was the same age as Liatris. It seemed that the Black's were often over as most dates in the journal that corresponded with weekends were associated with the Black's as well.

The diary had made no mention of Remus' love-life but it was apparent that he had no children of his own yet, although it seemed that the werewolf was Iris' favorite 'uncle' as it were; he treated her more seriously than Sirius did and had encouraged her bookishness. Harry inferred that werewolves were just as discriminated against in this realm as they were in his own because much of Iris' daily life had included Remus as coming over to serve as a more personal teacher to the Potter girls and acted as a father figure in James' absence.

Setting down Iris' diary, Harry felt more confident in interacting with his new family and a look over at the clock showed him that his encounter with Hecate and learning all he could of Iris' life had already consumed a good portion of his morning. And speaking of consuming, he could hear his stomach growl in hunger and he gave a quiet giggle to himself as he rose from the bed and took a few steps towards the bathroom door and paused in midstride. He had just giggled, he had chuckled and snickered but he had never giggled before, so why had he done it just now? As he resumed his steps he entered the bathroom that adjoined Iris' room and looked into the mirror as he studied the female face that he now had.

'I suppose that even though I have conscious control over this body that it has been under Iris' control for the past eleven years; if you repeat something enough times it becomes a muscle memory so I suppose that it doesn't seem too strange that certain reactions especially those without conscious effort will remain the same.' Harry considered this to himself as he went through the motions of brushing his teeth as he evaluated his circumstances.

Thankfully, Iris had been an introvert and antisocial for the most part, her only friends being Daphne and Liatris; as such it wouldn't be too hard to keep to himself for the time being and then slowly begin opening up and coming out of his shell over the coming months before Hogwarts. It would give him the chance to socialize and his awkwardness wouldn't be all that noticeable since Iris did come off as being rather timid and shy, so he would be able to pass it off when it came time to make friends and interact. Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing out his mouth, Harry began drawing up plans for Hogwarts coming up in a few months; this time he knew there was a war coming and he would need to formulate plans and a strategy for the future. Returning to his bedroom he crossed the room to a door besides the writing desk and stepped into a closet; with his mind on other things he didn't even register the fact that he pulled off the nightgown and placed it into the hamper just inside the door before fetching a simple white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants for a day of lounging in the house since it was a Sunday.

Exiting the closet, Harry considered that before he began recruiting his army he should learn the present history, crossing over to the bookcase besides the recessed window alcove; he removed a book from its place on the shelf and just as he was about to crack open the text he heard a shout.

"Iris, Liatris! Lunchtime!"

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><p><strong>Potter Residence, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**June 30, 1991**

**11:00 AM**

Harry cracked open the door to Iris' bedroom gingerly and poked his head out into the corridor as he stared out into the long corridor; taking a deep breath he could smell the scent of bacon wafting through the air and he smiled to himself at the pleasing aroma. Opening the door fully, he stepped out into the corridor and shut the door behind him as he stepped out; the sound of a door opening a bit further on caught his attention as he turned around to see who could only be Liatris stepping out of her own room. She was still in her nightgown and dark red hair looked a mess as if the girl had just rolled out of bed, which seemed like a fair assessment in all honesty. The girl's hazel eyes were still half-lidded from sleep and her face was red and blotchy from sleeping on her arm based on the way the girl was trying to rub feeling back into the appendage.

"Hey Lia, g'morning" Harry said as he walked up to his little sister; somehow he instinctively knew the girl had not brushed her hair before going to bed since it seemed to be tangled into a series of knots and snarls. Considering for a moment, he felt compelled to wave a hand at the younger girl's hair and willed it to come untangled; he felt a tingly rush flow through his arm that concentrated in his fingertips before blinking in amazement as Liatris' hair fell straight to her back as if it had never been tangled in the first place. The young redhead ran a hand through her hair nonchalantly, the use of magic completely unaffecting her as she beamed at her sister and gave her a swift hug. "Thanks Iris, 'preciate it!" The younger girl said with a honest sincerity that made Harry instantly like the girl; and he returned the hug before Liatris separated and began heading down the hall towards a flight of stairs and began making her way down.

Uncertain of the house's layout, Harry followed after the young girl as he tried to think of how he had just used his wandless magic so easily. The only thought he came up with was the memory from Snape where Harry had seen his mother control over under-age magic, when she had moved the flower petals; he supposed that in this universe Iris might have a similar control or possibly his developed magical core allowed him greater control of the 'accidental magic' that he had used in his youth. Regardless, he followed after Liatris and began to memorize the house.

The house or mansion depending on your point of view consists of three floors and a basement as far as Harry could tell as he ventured from the second story to the ground. The mansion was constructed in a large T-shape with each wing extending north, west, or east; the staircase centered in the middle of the mansion where all the wings converged. The topmost floor, being the second story was divided into three rooms alone, to the east was Iris' room, which he had already thoroughly explored; the west wing was dedicated entirely to Liatris' room most likely mirroring Iris' room, the north wing of the third floor was a drawing room that served as the children's study and workrooms. The first floor of the mansion held five rooms, the north wing was completely dedicated to the master bedroom suite; to the west were two guest rooms, each was half the size of the primary occupants rooms and they shared a bathroom; the east wing of this floor was divided into two studies, one was James' and the other was Lily's.

The ground level of the house was by far the liveliest and the chatter and bustle could be heard in the kitchen and dining room that dominated the eastern section. The west portion of the floor was dedicated to a massive library which contained floor to ceiling shelving, three of the rooms walls were dedicated to shelves with three additional freestanding cases were towards the northern section of the room, the southern half was occupied by a long table with what appeared to be plush leather chairs. The northern wing was the entryway, on the west wall was a massive fireplace and arranged around the room was comfortable looking furniture that made the entire atmosphere seem inviting.

As Harry stepped down onto the ground floor he saw the stairs continued down to a heavy wooden door; reaching out with his magic he could feel the door was heavily warded against intrusion and he assumed that those were Lily's workrooms; Snape had always had his classes in the dungeons so it was entirely possible that the Potter's kept their potions lab in the basement where the fumes wouldn't affect the rest of the household. Turning away from the warded door, Harry followed Liatris into the dining room and paused at the threshold as he looked over the room's occupants feeling as though the world had just dropped from below his feet. It had been one thing to read Iris' journal about all her loved ones being alive and to hear Hecate's promise to bring him to them, it was another thing entirely to see her _family_ alive and well, laughing and talking amongst one another. Lily and Sirius' wife Sarah were busying about the kitchen grabbing plates and cutlery while James, Sirius, and Remus were seated around the table guffawing at some story James was telling. Liatris had already taken a seat at the table beside James and across the table from Pollux where she greeted the boy and they began talking animatedly over something or other.

Sarah was a tall, young blond woman with a shade of eyes that were a pale grey bordering on blue; her hair was long fall towards the middle of her back and plaited into a simple braid. She appeared to be a very amicable woman based on the way she was laughing along with the men about the story that James was telling and the fact that Sirius kept smiling at the woman. Their son, Pollux, was a spitting image of his father with his shaggy black hair pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck with his father's strong chin and nose; on the other hand he had his mother's creamy alabaster skin and her startling pale grey eyes. Harry guessed that once the kid matured in a few years he would be quite the heart stopper.

The scene was picture perfect and tears rose unbidden to Harry's eyes as he was filled with the most profound sense of contentment and happiness that he ever experienced; it was as though every worry that had ever been saddled on him had been lifted and he felt this sense of buoyancy that lifted his mood dramatically. For the moment his planning and concerns fell by the wayside; swiping the tears that had formed in his eyes and playing it off as a large yawn, Harry stepped forward into the kitchen with an unabashed radiant smile. For the first time in a long time he could feel his sorrow ebb away because there was nothing left to mourn, everyone he had lost was standing in this room or was alive handling their business and he was going to keep it that way.

Moving towards his mother he had to look up into the face of Lily Potter nee Evans, and he studied her for a moment; she had more lines around her eyes and she was a decade older than he had ever seen her in any of his photos but he could see that her eyes were just like his; just like everyone had ever said, and her eyes were filled with a love and kindness that was all the more endearing. Her face was framed by her dark red hair that Listris had inherited and a little past shoulder length; it had a natural curl to it and was hanging loosely. Harry approached his mother, and wrapped Iris' arms around Lily's waist and looked up into his mother's face with a genuine warm smile.

Lily looked down at her daughter and saw the abject adoration in her daughter's eyes and gave a small laugh of pleasure at seeing Iris' face beaming up at her. The girl was getting big, she was a bit short for her age, only a few millimeters over four feet tall but she remembered liked it was yesterday holding the babe in her arms when they were hiding from Grindewald and Voldemort. She wrapped her arms around the almost-birthday girl and stroked her untamable raven locks, "Hey there lovely, you hungry? Me and Auntie Sarah made some BLT's." Lily asked with a charming smile, she knew that her daughter loved her bacon sandwiches and she wasn't surprised in the least when the girl's eyes widened in excitement and she nodded her head. As Iris disentangled her arms from her mother, Lily grabbed a tray of sandwiches and carried it over to the table while Sarah brought over another tray of jacket potatoes with sour cream and cheddar cheese.

Sarah settled in on Sirius' other side while Lily settled besides James across from the other woman. Remus was sitting at the end of the table, so Harry sat down beside Lily; and as James began helping himself to the food everyone simply loaded their plates and tucked in; while they began discussing small talk. Harry listened intently as he drank in the information, from his father's case load and Sirius' testimony in a fraud case, to Sarah's latest story in the Daily Prophet to Lily's work on a self cleaning cauldron. Harry was attentive but mostly silent which didn't seem out of character considering Iris' journal; but mostly he just enjoying listening to their voices; it was the first time he had seen Sirius looking so healthy and happy or Remus looking so at ease. These were good times, and he had a family for the first time and he was going to enjoy that.

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><p><strong>Potter Residence, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**June 30, 1991**

**10:00 PM  
><strong>

The rest of the day had been a haze of fun as far as far as Harry was concerned, it hadn't taken him as long to get accustomed to be addressed as Iris as he had thought it was, and by the end of the day he had even begun to respond and looking up from whatever it was that he was doing at the time when he heard the name being called. Just as Iris had written in her journal, after lunch the family had gone out back to their half sized quidditch pitch and had a small battle of the families; Harry playing as seeker with Liatris playing the chaser and their dad the keeper. Sirius was playing keeper on the other end with Pollux playing as chaser; they had decided that when Iris caught the snitch the team with the most goals would win. It had been an amusing game and Harry had taken the time to get reacquainted with the Nimbus 2000, the broomstick wasn't as quick or responsive as the Firebolt that would come out in a couple years but he was just as light as he had been the first couple years on the Nimbus so he had little difficulty getting back into the groove of things.

After lazily circling the pitch for the glint of gold he had spotted the small object flitting around the tail of Sirius' broom; he climbed for altitude before diving at a near vertical straight down. Sirius had looked up to see the dive bombing girl with her hair streaming behind her and he hastily moved out of the path just as Liatris put the quaffle through the ring he had been defending. As Harry seized the snitch, he barrel rolled and leveled off near enough to the ground that he let his hand skim the turf for a moment before pulling up and settling in the middle of the pitch. Holding the snitch triumphantly with a grin, Harry looked up when he didn't hear anyone speaking; and found four sets of eyes staring at him. "Why are you guys staring at me like that? I caught the snitch…" Harry trailed off as he held up the golden ball as if to prove his point.

Sirius looked over at his best friend and nudged the man in the shoulder, "Watch out James, with talent like that, all the boys in Hogwarts are going to want to date your daughter." He said with a mouth splitting grin as James gave the man a poisonous glare; "If I'm lucky she'll do that dive bomb and make them crap themselves, you need a change of drawers Padfoot?" The elder Potter retorted as he recovered with a joke of his on that left Sirius with a mock-scowl before smiling sweetly.

"I could use a pair, but I don't think yours would fit me." Harry's godfather stated dead-pan with an innocent look that left James floundering before he looked over at his wife, "Lily! Sirius is being mean to me! Can I hex him? Pretty please?"

Lily, Sarah, and Remus were standing on the patio laughing at all the stunned expressions that Iris had gotten and they were tearing up from watching Sirius look of sheer terror at having a ten year old come down almost completely on him. At James childish whine the trio went through another bout of raucous laughter, that everyone soon joined in on.

After that, Harry had gone upstairs with Remus to the drawing room on the second floor, while they were in the room; Harry had asked the werewolf if he could explain what had ended the Wizarding War nearly eleven years prior. Remus had given the young girl a curious look as she began tracing the family tree on the wall while he settled into one of the chairs in the room, he had long gotten accustomed to the fact that Iris was in every way her mother's daughter as Liatris was her father's. Iris was intelligent, smart as a tack if a bit shy but he figured that she would open up a bit more when she got to Hogwarts and had more kids to hang around with.

"Alright then, well I figure that if you're asking me this question then you know all about the Dark Lord Grindewald and his apprentice Lord Voldemort then." Remus stated rather then asked the question as he watched Iris across the room who was still tracing her family tree and she nodded in the affirmative. The werewolf smiled to himself at the nonchalance of her response, so many adults would have flinched at either one of those names but those names held no power over the young girl.

"The Dark Lord Grindewald believed that muggles should be slaves to wizards and witches, because they have no hold of magic he believed they were inferior to us. He gathered an army that supported his beliefs and he led a war throughout Europe to take power, he killed many wizards and witches and plenty of muggles too. The muggles were fighting their own war at the time and so they didn't know that there was a secret war being fought behind the scenes that would decide their fates. In any case, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, went to fight Grindewald in the greatest duel the wizarding world has ever seen and he beat him; taking his wand and imprisoning the Dark Lord in the very prison that he had built for his opponents." Remus launched into the tale, when he began to tell the history Iris peeled herself away from the tapestry she had traced down to her and her sister; she walked over to sit in the chair across from Remus, she pulled her feet under her as she settled into the chair and tucked her hair behind her ear as she gave him her full attention.

"Grindewald sat in his cell for twenty years before another wizard broke him out of prison in the nineteen seventies; together they began recruiting a number of wizards that were sympathetic to their cause, again they wanted to enslave the muggles and any muggleborn wizards too, like you mum. They recruited all the creatures that the wizarding world had persecuted and casted out and began a campaign of total war on the British wizarding community, those were bad times pup; Dumbledore made your parents go into hiding for a time there when the Death Eaters, that is to say Grindewald's army, got particularly nasty and started going after those that had been proving to be thorns in his side..." Remus was explaining the story very well, he was a remarkable story teller and Harry guessed that was one of the reasons the man was such a good teacher, he could draw people in with his words. The history sounded fairly close to his own, but it seemed that Voldemort had changed his methods in this reality; instead of taking everything in his own hands he had allied himself with Grindewald; another formidable wizard and so he was genuinely surprised by the way that history had mutated.

Remus took the wide eyes and rapt attention that Iris was heeding him with as a mark to continue, she had always been a good student and she indulged the mentor in him. "… at some point, Grindewald attacked the Longbottom's along with the Lestrange's. As the story goes, Grindewald set the Lestrange's upon the family and the tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom to the brink of death, Alice managed to get away from the Bellatrix Lestrange long enough to make it to her son's nursery. She barricaded herself in the nursery to protect her son; and when Grindewald got through her gaze her the chance to join him as she had proven to be quite the resourceful and determined pureblood. She refused and he killed her, but when he tried to kill their son, Neville, the spell failed to kill the body; it backfired instead and slew Grindewald leaving the bot with nothing more than a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. With Grindewald's defeat by an infant, many of the creatures deserted the fight and Voldemort was forced to withdraw his forces. The world has since, settled back into normalcy and you can sleep easy in bed knowing that you're dad and uncle Sirius are always working to keep you safe." Remus finished his story and smiled Iris who was listening to him through half open eyes, as she fought her sleepiness to process the story.

"So what happened to Neville's parents, did Grindewald kill them both or just his mom?" Harry asked genuinely curious to see how things had gone in this world; he remembered seeing the Longbottom's at St. Mungos after being tortured to the point of insanity. Remus contemplated the question for a moment as he formulated his response, "Neville's father eventually recovered from his torture and remarried; but he was never the same after the death of Alice, he became a very bitter man; from what your dad has said, he's the Deputy Director of the DMLE."

'Well, isn't that a kick to the rear; Neville didn't lose both his parents in this reality either; in fact his father is sane and one of the most politically powerful men in the government. I wonder how Dumbledore is going to handle a kid who's been raised as the savior of the Wizarding World.' Harry thought to himself through his half asleep haze. In all actuality, Harry was exhausted from a long day; he had been transported to another dimension, switched genders, met his parents and his sister for the first time ever, and played a game of quidditch. He knew that just yesterday in his own form, this wouldn't have been a challenge compared to what he had accomplished but in this ten year old shell, his tanks were running on empty. Still, the history lesson had been insightful in that it was both the same and completely different then his own; if Grindewald had been the exercising in Horcruxes as well then it would seem that Neville was carrying a piece of the original Dark Lord but that still left whatever other Horcruxes that Grindewald had left and dealing with Voldemort and his Horcruxes too. It seemed like Harry had quite the adventure lying ahead of him, but despite his new role in this world he could not fight the sleep that claimed him.

Remus leaned back into his chair as he watched the girl sitting across from him in the overstuffed leather chair finally succumb to sleep with a small grin. Rising from his seat, he picked up the young girl gingerly and carried her down the hall and into her own room; tucking her into bed he kissed the top of her head. "Night Iris, sweet dreams little one." He whispered as he extracted himself from the room and closed the door behind him. Descending the staircases, he found that the Potters were sitting in the living room and he settled easily into an armchair across from the couch where Lily and James were lounging; Sirius' and his family had departed earlier in the evening after they had finished dinner.

James smiled at his friend as he carded his fingers through Lily's silky red hair; "What trouble is Iris getting you into now Moony?" the Marauder asked with a playful smirk, he knew how found the girls were of Remus, especially Iris; that girl was just so curious about everything, a complete bookworm like her mother. He was sad that he didn't get to spend much time with his children because of his hours; he had taken the Captain promotion because he had been told that he would be getting the weekends off and better pay but once he had accepted the position the night Captain had pulled rank and gotten the day shift leaving him with the night shift. He had to admit that the pay was better, and the job had been a lot less stressful since now he was mainly riding a desk rather than chasing down upstarts, he would just have to grit his teeth and bear it for a few more years before the day Captain got pumped to a Commander's position and he could move up into the space. Still, in the interim he had lost a lot of time with Iris and Liatris; he got to talk to them over dinner before they went to bed during the week to catch up with them before he headed off to work and he devoted the weekends entirely to them.

He hoped they both knew how much he loved them, and he went to great lengths to spoil them rotten against Lily's wishes although he had the feeling she secretly approved off his behavior. After all the Potter vaults were deep and could support them and the next two generations of Potter children, even if they were the sort to spend lavishly and bedeck themselves in luxuries which they weren't the sort to do; Lily would probably strangle him in his sleep if he tried in any case. His salary and her commissions and royalties had proven more than enough to live quite comfortably without digging into their coffers; in fact they were putting deposits into bank rather than making withdrawals, adding to the already substantial sums of their accounts.

Remus chuckled softly at the thought of Iris getting him into trouble, she was an intelligent young witch and he suspected that she would turn out more like Lily then James; more studious and level headed then her prankster father had been at her age. "She asked me about the Wizarding War; so I told her what I knew, none of the war stories just the facts. When I told her about the Longbottom's she seemed genuinely concerned with their welfare; you've got one heck of a kid there if she's so compassionate towards total strangers. I'm almost curious to see how she's going to react when she meets Neville, from what I've heard from the tutors all his fame has gone right to his head; he's got an ego that makes the one James' had at that age seem small in comparison." The soft spoken man said with a mischievous grin at the not so subtle barb.

Lily actually giggled a bit at the jibe and picked up on it, "It's impossible; no one could have a bigger ego than James did at Hogwarts; the earth would have to stop orbiting the sun." She said with a playful grin as she teased her husband and ruffled his hair as he began to pout in mock-offense. "Why you guys picking on me all of a sudden, I haven't been that arrogant ponce in fourteen years!" he exclaimed as he gave a dramatically hurtful sigh, internally though he was quite pleased that Remus had told him that his daughter was such a compassionate person, he didn't mind a good prank every now and again but he had been entirely too hurtful in his youth and he couldn't believe how much of a prick he had been. "In all honesty though, if Neville turns out to be half as much of a prick as I was; I'd bet a galleon he's going to get his nose broken but the first week of class." James said as he resumed stroking Lily's hair, to which she sighed contentedly.

"I'll take that bet, I don't think he'll make it three days before he gets it broken." Remus quipped with a grin as Lily tapped a finger against her chin as she pondered the bet; "I'm in, he won't make it off the train without someone breaking his nose; we'll have to tell Iris to keep tabs on this."

"Well, you'll have to tell her in the morning because I've already put her too bed; I guess that quidditch game really took it out of her. And on that note, I suppose now is a good time as any to take retire for the evening as well. Don't stay up too late, you two." Remus said as he rose from the seat and bid them both good night as he turned to climb the stairs to the second floor guest room he was staying in.

Lily patted James' leg as she too rose gracefully of the couch; "Come on Mister Potter, that's our cue to head up as well. I've still got to finish those cauldrons, and we've got to start planning for Iris' birthday party; you know she doesn't have many friends but we've still got to invite Daphne and her sister, and maybe some of the other children her age. I'm sure Cissy would enjoy bringing Draco over."

James rolled his eyes at his wife's comment, "I really have no idea how you ever managed to befriend Narcissa Malfoy; the woman despises Sirius and me but she's thinks the world of you and the girls. I completely don't understand it." The Auror said as he rose from the couch with a muted groan as he had been sitting for a while. Lily looked over her shoulder at her husband and shrugged, "I just took the time to get to know her, and it really makes all the difference in the world." With those words, she and James ascended the stairs to their own bedroom.

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><p><strong>AN:** I'm going to predict that some of you are wondering why I mention both Harry and Iris in this story; Harry is the conscious mind and Iris is the physical body of the child that exists in this realm. At some point, the character will changed and only Iris will remain but that kind of change isn't going to come immediately. But it will come eventually.

Please leave a review if you enjoyed the work, and feel free to leave any constructive criticisms. Flames for the sake of being flames will be ignored so why bother?

**Next Chapter: **_Diagon Alley and Birthday Celebrations_


	3. Chapter II

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, HG/OC, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/OC, DM/DG, LL/GW

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews, they keep me motivated to continue this work and bring you all more content; I've got about half of the first year outlined at the moment so you guys can expect weekly updates in the futures.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil <strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter II**

**Potter Residence, Warwickshire, England, UK**

**July 29, 1991**

**12:00 AM**

The next month at the Potter Manor was spent in a pleasant summer haze for Harry; he had always desired to experience what life was like with a loving family. The few summers he had spent with the Weasley's had been the happiest times of his life, they had been served as a surrogate family to those he had lost; Ron had always been jealous of Harry's fame but Harry had always been envious of Ron's family and every time he was with them he had felt a longing for family of his own, he would have traded his fame and wealth in a heartbeat if it meant that he could have spent a moment with his family.

Hecate had given him this chance to fulfill a longing that had been so ingrained into his psyche that he felt lighter and more at ease with himself and the world than he had since the first time he had set eyes on the Mirror Erised seven years ago.

Harry had taken the opportunity to immerse himself in the family life that he now had, whenever Lily was cooking or lounging about the house, Iris could now be found a few feet away either giving a helping hand or just spending time with her mother. This wasn't to say that Iris had become any less of a bookworm over the month but that she had taken to be a bookworm and still engage with others rather than simply sit in the drawing room or in her alcove; although her reading as of late had been focused on Greek and Roman mythology.

Lily had been surprised when her daughter had taken to being more proactive with her chores, the girl had always kept a tidy room but now after meals she voluntarily helped her clean the dishes and had even begun helping in the kitchen in cooking meals; something that had proved to be a unique blessing since it seemed her daughter had a natural talent for cooking and everyone had been very receptive to the new dishes that they were serving.

Remus had been bemused when their after dinner chats of history or discussions on her books had evolved into her asking him to tell her stories about the Marauders and his time at Hogwarts, even his current life; her genuine interest and the fact that she really seemed to understand what he was saying had led them to become much closer over the month, to the point that each evening led to Iris falling asleep on him and him tucking her into bed.

The werewolf had not minded in the least, and whereas before he had cared for Iris as the daughter of his best friend he had come to view Iris more as the daughter he didn't have. Even when the full moon approached Iris seemed to soothe the beast within him, and for the first time ever when he had changed down in the Potter's heavily warded basement he had only felt the discomfort of his physical transformation instead of the warring of his inner beast and human mind.

To his surprise, when he reverted and emerged from the basement; Remus had discovered Iris sleeping outside the warded door in the stairwell and he felt a surge of affection for the young girl. He didn't know why but he knew that she was the reason why he had had such an easy transformation, he rationalized it was probably because the wolf had sensed that it's 'pup' was nearby. In any case, he was silently thankful as he returned her to her room.

In an effort to play the role of Iris better, Harry had read through the girl's diary several times and was had begun developing his sibling bond. Liatris was born on May 27th of 1981; only ten months after the birth of Iris herself and the girls had grown up nearly inseparable from one another.

The two had developed differing interests as they got older, the elder had become an avid reader and had filled out several diaries with her thoughts and much resembled Lily's more level headed disposition; Liatris was her father's daughter all the way through, she was an avid quidditch fan and spent much of her day outside flying on her broom or otherwise sneaking into James' study to read his prank book.

She was a bit of a hellion in all honesty; she was still attending her tutoring sessions in the mornings and she returned home on a weekly basis with some letter explaining that she had turned a student's hair pink or had glued a student's hand to the table.

Of course, these letters were always received with raucous laughter from James and Sirius; and Lily had given up trying to train the prankster out of her youngest, she was too much like James for it to ever happen. Still, her pranks were harmless and no one ever got hurt or stayed mad at the young girl for long; so there was no fear of her becoming the hexing tyrant the James was in his own youth.

Harry had taken to spending time with his new baby sister in the afternoons, either flying playing keeper to her chaser; or just talking to the girl about quidditch and her classmates. Thankfully, at her age boys still thought girls were icky and he was spared the horror of giving sisterly advice; which had led to some internal conflict for the boy in a girl's body.

He was most certainly not a candidate for giving relationship advice to anyone; although he supposed that his current disposition offered him a unique outlook to observe both sides of the field. He remembered the late night discussions in Gryffindor tower where his dorm mates bragged of their conquests and who was the most attractive witch in their year.

Harry had the hardest time bonding with his father, James was receptive and communicative; interested in the lives of the three most important girls in his life but the man was either sleeping or working and spent little time in the daily life of his family.

While Liatris had displayed some resentment toward James for being absent much of the time, Harry had the maturity and emotional development of an adult and he did not fault his father since it was evident to Harry, that James was regretful that he was missing out on so much of his children's lives.

So when the weekends rolled around, he had taken it onto himself to engage his father and Liatris at the same time and began to smooth over the wrinkles that had formed in the family; which had in turn brought both him and his sister closer to James.

Iris' family had welcomed the changes and saw it as a sign that their daughter was finally coming out of her shell; Iris had always been a solitary child, preferring the company of her fictitious princes, knights, and princess of her stories to the flesh and blood children her own age.

Even Pollux, Pol as he was called, had become less Sirius' son and more Iris' friend; so the young girl was at the very least becoming more sociable and that was an encouraging thought, since they were no longer worried about her not being able to make any friends at Hogwarts.

But as Harry's birthday approached he had felt increasing anxiety; his new family knew that Iris had few friends so it would most likely be a small family affair but Iris' diaries had described her best friends as one Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy so it was a foregone conclusion that at the very least he would have to play the role of Iris well enough to convince them while keeping his newer outgoing personality traits.

Another concern that Harry had, was his experiences with Draco in his own universe, there had been no love lost between the two and an intense rivalry that had come to a head on numerous occasions. He remembered what Hecate had said about the people in this reality being different then they had been in his universe so he needed to remain open minded about everyone and stifle his preconceived notions.

So now in the twilight hours of his birthday, the young man in a girl's body sat in the window alcove on the comfortable cushions with knees drawn up to his chest as he stared out at the moonless night considering how much life had changed for him; when he had taken over Iris' life he had avoided looking himself in the mirror and used the wash room sparingly.

He had learned that his thoughts on muscle memory had been correct and he was capable of taking care of his own hygiene but it had still been immeasurably embarrassing coming to terms with certain changes in anatomy. Showering had been a challenge, on one hand he knew he needed to be clean but it almost seemed like a violation of the girl's body to perform even that simple task.

Still, it was surprising how resilient the mind was as in the short month that he had lived as a female he had come to terms with his form but that wasn't to say that he had completely come to terms with the situation.

After all, despite the fact that everyone else saw Iris; it was Harry Potter on the inside and he still identified as a male despite his circumstances. Most of the time he forgot that he was even in a girl's body; he had become so used to the long hair that he know sported that tucking it behind his ear had become an unconscious reaction and he had noticed every once in a while when he was deep in thought or reading that he twirled a strand of hair around a finger.

He supposed he should be thankful for just how little difference there was in the physical characteristics of eleven year old children; if you disregarded the facial construction and hair the only difference from an eleven year boy would be the slightly narrowed waist and slight protrusion of the pelvic bone. He was familiar enough to with the human body to understand that substantial changes to his current physique wouldn't begin until this body reached thirteen; there was a thought, at twenty he would be going through puberty again… as a girl this time.

Harry sighed to himself at the thought; he had already resigned himself to his fate as being a female since that was the price that Hecate had demanded so that he could be her champion. He really didn't have much to grumble about though, he had a loving and extended family that included the Black's and Remus all of whom were alive and well; and know he had the chance to keep them that way. Sounded like a fair trade to him anyways…

As he brought his thoughts back on his predicament, Harry gazed out onto the quidditch pitch and stared unseeingly at the dew covered grass that shimmered with starlight. "How do I hold onto Draco and Daphne when I don't have any memories of who they are in this world?" Harry asked the reflection of Iris in the glass using her clear soprano that was tinged with worry.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask that question, you surprise me Harry; you've done a remarkable job keeping your secret for all this time. I imagined that you would reach this impasse sooner than you did." The words washed over Harry and he immediately felt the soothing calm that Hecate brought with her when she came to him, the goddess had proven to be remarkably absent from her champion's life. She had taken to visiting him in his sleep as of late, generally when he was in the throes of a nightmare from his past; she would banish the troubling sleep and grant him respite with words of soothing.

Turning his head away from the window, Harry fixed his emerald gaze on the deity; as always she was standing regally in her silver gown, shining with that otherworldly light, her midnight hair cascading to her waist and she stared out at him through the ever present three faced mask as she approached him and settled herself on the cushions before him.

"I suppose I'm just full of surprises, then again so far I've just been moving with the flow of things. Iris kept very detailed diaries, they've proved to be useful in dealing with her daily life; unfortunately it seems that while she mentions her best friends there is little detail, most of those entries are focused on what she learned during the lessons." Harry responded with a one shoulder shrug as he lifted his chin toward the mentioned documents along the shelf.

Hecate nodded her head in agreement before her powerful gaze met Harry's, "Iris has seven years of cognitive memories stored in that mind you have taken up residence in Harry, even now she resides in your mind watching everything; acting where you let her, everything you need is at your disposal. All you need is a key and as always, I will provide that key for a price." The goddess spoke softly but her words traveled the distance clearly, somehow he was certain that if Hecate spoke to him in the middle of a hurricane her words would cut through everything to reach.

Harry pondered the proposition; he had been doing his research on the Goddess and learned that this was her way; ever since the Greeks and Romans had documented the deity she had been associated with numerous concepts. Hecate was known as a goddess of magic and her power was indeed prodigious; besides that she was also revered for her ties to the lunar cycle and the night sky, to snakes, and to crossroads and gateways.

As her champion, Harry had hypothesized that he would wield some power over these domains as well; as of yet he had only experimented with Remus' werewolf transformation, from what the man had said after his transformation in the last few days; Harry's proximity had eased the pain of the change and soothed the beast's mind which had proven to an extent that some of Hecate's powers could be channeled.

The only other things he had been able to test was his ties to serpents; he had retained his parselmouth abilities after defeating Voldemort and shedding the man's soul piece but it seemed that his ability was much stronger here. He had used one of his mornings while Liatris was in class to wonder the grounds; the property extended to the south and terminated at the tree line of a large forest.

Harry had explored the woods for a bit before he had called out in parseltongue; he still remembered the rush of magic that had accompanied that call that had left him feeling giddy and slightly drunk but had brought a number of the common adders that thrived in England to him.

In any case, Hecate's connection to the crossroads had been insightful; crossroads meant that a decision needed to be made and whichever way you went you had to pay the price of not going down the other path. It was one of the reasons why Hecate never offered anything for free, or at least that was that Harry's studies had indicated; the other possibility existed that she had ulterior motive.

"What's the price for the key to Iris' memories then?" Harry inquired curiously, as he stared at the goddess while his chin rested on his knees; there was something to be said Iris' flexibility, he didn't think he'd ever held this pose before but it had proven to be comfortable enough.

"The price for unlocking Iris' memories is Iris herself, by giving you access to her memories your conscious mind will have to meld with hers. You will still be Harry but you will also be Iris; her timidity will temper your brashness, her curiosity will stay your prejudices, likewise your knowledge will fill her ignorance, and your skill will fill her inexperience. But certain things will blur, some memories will have to fade to allow as seamless a connection as possible or your mind will shatter." Hecate explained the price, though the concept was difficult to truly grasp; he would still be himself but he would also be Iris, it sounded like a personality disorder, being two people simultaneously but somehow Hecate made it seem like they would be one person with both their traits; both sets of memories.

And while the concept seemed terrifying, Harry could not bring himself to feel fear or anxiety or even nervous; he was calm, serene as he held the goddess' gaze.

He looked into the goddess' eyes and with a deep breath he nodded his head in ascent and Hecate bowed her head in return acknowledging his confirmation, once more she leaned forward and placed the lips of mask against the forehead of the young girl and Harry was swallowed up by darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Mindscape, HarryIris Potter**

**July 29, 1991**

**3:30 AM**

Harry opened his eyes blearily as a shuddering breath wracked his chest, as if he hadn't taken a breath in ages. After a few moments of blinking harshly to clear his vision he found that he was looking up into a pair of startling green eyes; very familiar eyes that had gazed back at him every day for the past eighteen year.

Sitting up cautiously, Harry inspected himself and found that he was no longer possessing Iris' body but his own form; down to the scars that marred his left hand. Casting a look around, he found himself sitting the middle of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, the stands empty save for what looked like picture frames. The frames were all different, some small and shaded in black and white while others were large and depicted scenes with vivid colors, but all of them were heavily detailed.

In the middle of the pitch was a apple tree; the leaves on the branches were swirling with colors and constantly seemed to be shifting in a nonexistent wind. Hanging from the branches were bright, shining fruit that radiated a vibrant life while on the ground at the base of the tree were dull and listless fruit that seemed to have fallen from the boughs.

Kneeling at his side was Iris, while he had never actually met the girl before somehow he knew that this was her in her entirety. Together, they were alone on the pitch and Harry sighed to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose wondering what was going on. The young girl looked at him with a soft smile as she patted him on the shoulder warmly as though in greeting.

"Is it so difficult to comprehend Harry, you learned Occlumency; remember how the text taught you? Meditate and create a mindscape so that you can sort your memories and guard your mind." Iris said with a gentle smile as she made an encompassing gesture with her arm to make point.

"We're in my… our mindscape then, eh?" Harry corrected himself halfway through his sentence as he evaluated the scene curiously; the young girl at his side gave a nod of confirmation as she stood up and he followed suit. Looking at the young girl, Harry wondered what he was supposed to say, "Umm… I'm sorry for hijacking your life Iris; I didn't know that was what Hecate meant when she meant she was going to give me a second chance." The words sounded awkward even to him even as they passed through his lips.

Iris giggled and she looked up at him with a disarming smile, "Don't worry about it Harry; when Hecate said she wanted me to be her champion I didn't know how I was supposed to help her but now that you're here I can see you're strong. And we're just the same, we want to protect those we love; but you're the warrior, you know how to keep them safe, so if that means I have to take the back seat then I'll do it. But since we're here together, I think Hecate is telling us to work together."

Harry gave a long blink at the girl in front of him, he was surprised to be honest; he had known that Iris was smart but it was no wonder his secret had gone unexposed for so long, this girl was wise and mature beyond her years.

He nodded his head in agreement, "You're right, I can fight and I'm strong enough to defend our family but this is your life too; it wouldn't be right for me to just take the reins of your life and do whatever I saw fit. But how do we coexist?" Harry pondered aloud, wondering briefly why he was asking an eleven year old girl for what to do; he was the older of the two, he should be taking charge but somehow he had the feeling that his girl knew exactly what to do; she had been sitting in the back of his mind for a month, she would have had plenty of time to put the pieces together.

Iris gave a quiet laugh as she looked over her shoulder at Harry with an easy smile and a twinkle in her eyes, "Think about it Harry, you've lived at the manor for a month; a family coexists because of the memories they share together. All we have to do is build a house to put up our memories." It was a simple solution, and he remembered the wisdom of a friend; the best answers to the hardest problems are the one that make the most sense.

With a nod, Harry stepped up beside Iris and took her hand in his; "Alright then, let's get started." Together the pair began to build the Potter Manor, from the basement up to the second floor, ever brick and window set exactly where it should go. Together the pair hung up paintings or shelved books containing their memories until it was impossible to distinguish where one or the other of them started and ended; the two having become one.

Their job complete, the two Potter's settled on a couch in the drawing room of the second floor staring at the tapestry of their family before the fell asleep. Iris' head resting on Harry's shoulder and Harry's head resting atop hers.

In the corner of the room, Hecate emerged from the shadows; hidden behind her mask it was impossible to discern quite what she was feeling at that moment but there was a pleased air about the goddess as she stopped in front of the couch before the sleeping pair. Casting a hand above the pair, the room was filled with a soft radiance before she left the drawing room; and descended down the stairs to the newly stocked library.

Lifting her hand, a book began to float away from its place on a shelf and settled in her palm as it opened of its own accord and settled on a page. The book was filled with neat and defined penmanship, lacking embellishment; and as she gazed at the book sentences began to fade out of existence and she flipped through the text thoroughly as if double checking her censorship. Shutting that book, the goddess returned it to its place while she took out the book beside it and repeated the process before returning it to its proper place as well.

As she faded from sight she smirked slightly at the two books as she observed the titles written across the spines of the texts. "Lord Voldemort" was the title of the first, and the second was titled "Tom Marvolo Riddle." When Hecate faded from sight there was a stirring in the drawing room up above, laying on the couch was a rather beautiful young woman; raven black hair spread across the seat in a dark halo, framing an angelic face with finely arched eyebrows and almond shaped eyes, full cupid's bow shaped lips and high cheekbones.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**July 29, 1991**

**10:00 AM**

Emerald eyes open slowly as light passed through glass and bathed the figure of Iris Potter in warm and gentle rays. The girl's temple rested against the cool glass and a blanket was pulled up around her to ward off the chill; rousing slowly she pulled back and stared into the reflection cast by the glass. Staring back was the eleven year old face, but staring out there was a new person, a new consciousness.

Iris shook her head slowly as she gathered her wits about her, and pondered what had happened since Hecate's kiss; she remembered rebuilding her memories and integrating both sets. She remembered fighting Voldemort at Hogwarts but also her excitement at getting to go to her parent's alma mater and learning there.

It was a bit confusing but she found that it wasn't too difficult to sort through and took a 'look' at her Occlumency shields; to her surprise they felt stronger like they could hold out anything. Satisfied that she wasn't going to collapse into a sobbing mess of insanity and tear herself apart from the inside out, she went about preparing herself for her birthday party.

Unlike the past month, Iris had no discomfort or shyness at showering or relieving herself and even took a moment to look herself in the mirror as she evaluated her appearance and busied herself with brushing out her damp hair with one of the wide tooth combs that were in a drawer.

Crossing over to the closet, Iris discarded her sleeping clothes as she changed into a charcoal blouse and jeans before slipping into a pair of trainers. Over by her bedside, she opening the jewelry case and took out an elaborate fleur-de-lis pendant on a leather cord; clasping the necklace around her neck.

A few moments later, Iris had arrived on the ground floor and slipped into the kitchen where Lily was cooking up a full breakfast it seemed, Iris smiled exasperatedly at her mother's behavior.

"Mum, you didn't have to through all this trouble over breakfast you know; I would have been okay with a light breakfast." She chimed as she stepped into the outfitted Muggle kitchen; you could take the witch out of the Muggle world but you couldn't take the Muggle world out of the witch it seemed.

The kitchen was outfitted with stainless steel appliances, a full stove and oven, a deep sink and dish washer; the cabinetry was all an off white color that made the space much brighter and welcoming and contrasted nicely against the burnt umber counter tops.

Lily looked up from her cooking as Iris entered the room and she smiled brightly at her daughter, "Don't be silly, today's your birthday! What kind of mother would I be if I didn't make you your favorite breakfast?" she inquired with a playful grin as she pulled turned off the stove and together they moved the food from the island that divided the kitchen from the dining room and settled the dishes on the table.

Taking seats across from one another, they both heaped their plates with servings of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fried tomatoes and hash browns. Looking up at each other they both said cheers simultaneously and laughed good naturedly before they tucked into the meal.

A few minutes later Remus descended from his room looking rested and healthier than Iris could ever remember seeing him from either set of memories, eventually they were join by James and Liatris, who was likewise freshly showered and her hair combed properly rather than having her sister fix it for her like usual.

As everyone ate they made small talk but there was poorly hidden excitement for the party, especially for Iris; because the Harry part of her mind was about to have his first birthday with his family.

Well… they had certainly been a party for his first birthday based on the letter he had found in Sirius' room back in Grimmauld Place but did he had been too young to remember that.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**July 29, 1991**

**12:00 PM**

As the guests started arriving, Iris noticed that it wasn't all that different from her old birthday parties but it was also exceedingly different; Harry had only ever experienced those parties amongst the Weasley's and while those had been good times, the fact that this party was being thrown by family made it seem much more special.

The guests who attended were also fairly surprising to the portion of her mind that held Harry's memories; the back yard was filled with the people he had expected of course, Lily, James, Liatris, Remus, Sirius and his family but also in attendance were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and their son Draco, Lord and Lady Greengrass and their daughters Daphne and Astoria.

The party had proceeded just about the way you would expect; the children were partaking in a three on three quidditch game which was something that Iris could get into despite the fact that she now had the mental development of an eighteen year old amongst a group of preadolescents; somehow flying was one particular activity that seemed to span the ages and everyone who could fly could enjoy playing.

While the younglings were up in the air, the adults were hanging about the patio shuttling back and forth from the kitchen when the summer heat became too much; the dynamic was interesting to observe from afar though Iris wished she could mingle more to get a feel of how things were going on.

Lily was entertaining the women it seemed as they sat around a large table amicably talking with each other; Sarah seemed to be explaining something that had drawn the attention on Lady Greengrass and Andromeda, but on the other side Lily was discussing something with Narcissa who looked quite pretty now that her nose wasn't stuck in the air and scrunched up like she had looked in Harry's universe. It was actually rather surprising to see that the two women were getting along so well, and Iris wondered what the story was behind it all.

On the other side of the deck, Remus, James, Sirius were taking turns manning the grill and talking while sipping their bottles of bitter and in between the two groups, Iris saw Lucius Malfoy talking to Lord Greengrass quietly; the two of them seemed uncomfortable with the whole affair considering how casual the event was and they were both much more used to dealing with upper crust galas and events than a child's birthday party.

The quidditch game ended after Iris and Draco had raced through the air each one of them pushing their brooms to the limit; they had been hovering above the pitch making lazy circles looking for the glint of light while Astoria and Liatris had been vying for control of the quaffle. The pair of seekers had seen the glint of gold flitting between the two chasers and they had been prompted to dive towards the combative girls, which caused them both to shriek and separate to make way.

Liatris had dodged left to avoid the collision but Astoria had jerked her broom upwards instead and placed herself firmly in Iris' path. The adults had looked up sharply at the girlish screams, they had thought for sure that Iris would break off her pursuit to avoid the crash, and Lucius had a slight smirk on his face as he glanced over at James; so it was clear that he was still as much of a pretentious jackass in this reality but at least his wife was nice.

However, with Harry's experience at her beck and call it didn't even faze Iris; crossing her ankles and squeezing the broomstick tightly between her thighs, the girl rolled upside down and pushed the broom faster as she flattened herself against the wood shaft. With her long black hair streaming behind her; Draco had to drop his altitude to see past the girl's hair and as he did so he realized that he had moved out of reach of the gold object even as Iris seized the small sphere in her hand. Lowering herself into a dive, Iris streaked towards the ground before looping to level off and correct her orientation.

After seeing the maneuver, James gave a smirk of his own and met Lucius' gaze; the tall blond man was now staring in disbelief with a gobsmacked expression on his face, turning towards the man he had just smirked at he winced involuntarily as James cocked his chin at the man. Turning towards his friends James looked at the gathered group with a confused expression as they were snickering behind their hands.

"What's so funny? Didn't you guys just see my daughter pull that off!" He exclaimed as he waved his hand frantically at the pitch where the kids were landing and congratulating Iris on her catch.

Sirius took a breath as he looked as he best friend with tears of mirth forming at the corners of his eyes, "We saw that alright mate, she's going to be the most popular girl at Hogwarts if she pulls those moves off on the pitch. You ready for the marriage contracts?" he asked breathlessly before the group fell back into peals of laughter as they looked at James' horrorstruck and pale face; he opened a mouth a few times to try and make a coherent retort but gave up before crossing his arms and giving a sulking expression, "I'm going to take a page out of aunt Gothel's book and stick her in a tower somewhere under the Fidelius." James murmured to himself thoughtfully, which sent Sirius to the ground rolling in laughter.

The rest of the event went as planned; they sang Happy Birthday to an embarrassed Iris, before cutting the Honeyduke's made chocolate cake that James had fetched; and after everyone was fed they began with presents. The gifts were nothing earthshattering but they were still sentimental to Iris, since to the portion of her conscious that was Harry; they were the first real presents he had ever gotten from his family.

From her parents came a charm bracelet that was already fitted with several pendants; a lily flower in mother-of-pearl, an amethyst liatris flower, an iris in lapis lazuli, a silver moon, an onyx paw print and finally a gold stag. To Iris, it was a simple but extremely thoughtful gift that just seemed to fit; nothing was more important to her then her family and now she could carry them with her wherever she went and she immediately put it on after giving her family a hug.

The rest of the gifts were from the other guests in attendance, an assortment of sweets from Remus; some prank items from Zonko's courtesy of Sirius (which had earned several dubious looks from the Greengrass's as well as Lucious); Daphne had presented her with a hefty gift card to Flourish and Blotts (which had been met with a happy and excited laugh as the Heiress had addressed the card to "my favorite bookworm"); and from the Malfoy's (considering that Lucius cocked an eyebrow in curiosity as to what was under the wrapping, it had probably been Draco and strangely enough 'Aunt' Cissy) a dragonhide forearm holster for the wand she would be getting on her actual birthday.

Overall, the day went very well and Iris had little difficulty interacting with Draco or Daphne though they were both a bit surprised by her new level of expressiveness and how much more interactive she was being; but it had passed quickly and they were quite pleased that their friend was being more sociable and talkative.

It turned out that the Draco in this reality was still something of a spoiled snot but he was much milder, his insults and sarcasm had been playful and joking in their manner throughout the day and she had to admit that talking to him was a lot more than talking to Ron had been at that age.

The Draco of Harry's universe had been a monumental prick but the man had his circle of friends, so perhaps this was what he was really like behind the cold and malicious mask he had put up all the time; if that was the case then she would have no reservations working with the man so long as she managed to keep him away from the Dark Lord.

Daphne was actually a real pleasure to be around, Harry had never interacted with her in his universe, but at least in this one the young strawberry blonde witch with her gold flecked hazel eyes was exceptionally bright for her age. She seemed to be equally well read and educated as Iris had been in this universe before merging with Harry; so she had proven to be quite insightful in her conversation.

Furthermore, because of her father's position she seemed to have a fair amount of knowledge on the current political scape even if she didn't quite understand all of it, Draco had displayed the same; so the political maneuvering was still beyond their comprehension but at least they knew it was happening and that it was important.

Those were concepts that Harry had not become familiar with until much older in his life as a result of being hidden away in the Muggle World and having Dumbledore's manipulations run his life. Harry had come to that realization before, how the grandfatherly headmaster had taken the prophecy as a ticket to shape his life.

From the moment Harry had been set on the door step of the Dursley's he had been played. Dumbledore had placed him the care of people who had outright feared and resented magic; he had been lambasted as a freak; starved and made to do hard labor. They had broken his spirit from day one, so that when Dumbledore took him into Hogwarts he would have a child that was eager to please, starved for positive attention and willing to go through hell to get it; and Harry had played the role perfectly.

And the point of all the old man's machinations was to set him upon a path that would ultimately terminate in him dying so that the horcrux that resided within him could be destroyed. If he was supposed to be the savior of the Wizarding War, why wasn't he ever trained? Why had he learned to fight on the run?

One could argue that Dumbledore had thought he had more time but once Voldemort had returned after Harry's fourth year then training should have begun in earnest. It hadn't, and that had left Harry scrambling to get the heck out of dodge; the fact that he had survived the Battle of Hogwarts had been a fluke, Voldemort had him dead to rights; the only thing that had saved him had been the Elder Wand.

Dumbledore had trained Harry to die in the name of the greater good. And now it was Neville's turn it seemed; from what Iris had learned through Remus and her parents, the Boy-Who-Lived of this universe had grown up the son of an important Ministry official with a stepmother that loved to parade around on the boy's fame.

By all accounts, this universe's Neville was worse than the old Draco had been; walking around as though the world owed him for his mother's sacrifice, although he probably thought he 'was' the reason why Grindewald had been torn from his body.

If that was the case, Iris had no interest in working alongside the boy or Dumbledore for that matter. Hecate had done more to earn her trust then the senile fool and there was no way she was going to prostrate herself for some egocentric child when she could stomp him like a bug.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**July 31, 1991**

**11:00 AM**

Tuesday morning had come by with little fanfare for Iris; after all they had already celebrated her birthday the Sunday prior so she had simply been met with a few birthday wishes and hugs or kisses from her family.

She had set to work on helping Lily cook up a nice breakfast before tucking in to the late morning meal. After polishing away their 'brunch' the Potter girls and Remus assembled in front of the fireplace, Lily took down a box from the mantel and passed it to Iris so that she could get a handful of the familiar glittery silver Floo Powder.

"Alright Remus, we shouldn't be more than a few hours; you sure you don't mind watching Liatris?" she asked the man with a concerned smile not wishing to impose on the man.

He waved it off, "No worries Lil, you go and have a good time with Iris; Sarah and Pol are coming over in a bit to keep us company." Remus said as he settled his hands on Liatris' shoulders, the young redhead had perked up a bit at hearing Pol was coming over and a mischievous glint had formed in her eye, you could practically see the cogs turning in her mind as she constructed some prank for when the boy arrived.

With a small chuckle at her sister's expression and a brief wave, Iris tossed the powder onto the cherry flames before she stepped into the green tongues of fire, she felt the tickling warmth as she called out her destination, "Leaky Cauldron" and was suddenly whisked through the Floo network.

The sensation never got any better, Iris thought to herself as she inhaled at the moment of transport, earning herself a lungful of soot and ash so that when she arrived at the tavern, she came sputtering and coughing; momentarily disorientated she stumbled out of the fireplace and was caught by a steadying hand on her shoulder.

Finally regaining her composure as the final whoosh of the fireplace signaled her mother's arrival; Iris managed to look up into the face of a rather handsome man; he appeared to be in his late twenties, with long, thick jet black hair that he had tied back into a tail, he was pale peach in coloring and his face was composed of high cheekbones and a strong square jaw with an aristocratic nose that combined to make him incredibly attractive.

But what was more surprising was how novel the experience was, no one was fawning over her; no one was making any exclamations or trying to see who she was. As far as anyone was considered, she was just some kid with glasses; and the anonymity of it all was a welcome respite.

Just a month ago, this entire experience would have probably been front page news for the Daily Prophet and people would have been swarming the area trying to get autographs or handshakes. Still, since she was just some kid in this reality so she couldn't expect to get away with being rude or anything.

"Thank you, sir." Iris said hoarsely to the handsome stranger as she gazed up at his imposing six foot figure, he gave her a smirk and a nod as while Iris moved over to her mother, who turned towards her daughter and glancing at the man that stood behind her.

Lily blinked in surprise at the man as she recognized him, in fact the man didn't seem to have aged a day since she had graduated from Hogwarts over a decade ago; "Oh, Professor Riddle? How are you?" Lily inquired politely as she smiled at the man with genuine affection.

Tom Riddle looked at Lily Potter for a moment before a faint smile appeared on his face as he met her emerald eyes with his own obsidian orbs, "I'm well Lily, but please you haven't been my student for a decade at the least; please call me Tom." He replied with a rich and velvety voice, though there was a faint air of amusement in his voice he sounded mostly bored. Altogether, his voice was pleasing to the ear but his mannerisms left something to be desired.

Iris gazed at the man as she tried to place the reason why the name Tom Riddle sounded so familiar to her. She wracked her memory for a moment before she recalled that 'Hogwarts: A History' had listed him as one of the most powerful wizards of all time; he had set current high scores for every N.E.W.T. he had taken and he had graduated Hogwarts with no fewer than five Masteries, he had even invented several spells for that had made their way into student textbooks. She had a feeling that she should know more about this man than that but try as she might, she could not think of anything else so she just shrugged off the feeling thinking that it would come to her later.

But now that she wasn't coughing up a lung and she could give him, her attention; and when she did so it was almost as if the man at the source of a blizzard, cold just poured off of him in waves, and just beneath the cold was the taste of something bittersweet and just a tad bit metallic.

The combination was strange but invigorating; the likes of which Iris had never crossed before, her mind was abuzz with curiosity and she stretched out a tendril of magic towards him; she gave an involuntary shudder at the jolt of power that seemed to react with her own and gave her a heady rush that was many times more powerful than when she called the snakes in the woods.

Riddle looked down at the raven haired girl with her mother's vibrant green eyes; sizing up the incoming student. Her eyes held an expression of recognition and curiosity that he found amusing and he could practically sense the intelligence that hid just behind in the recesses of her mind.

However, as he focused his senses towards her core he was suddenly intensely aware of how the young girl's magic was billowing around her chaotically and the presence of a sharp heat that seemed to appear every few moments but in no discernible patter as well as the smell of ozone that permeated the air around her; it was almost shocking that her hair wasn't flying around her where she stood.

When he sensed the tentative touch of the child's magic against his own he almost flinched back from the touch, but he kept his expression schooled and watched as her eyes glazed drunkenly and her eyelids drooped heavily from the magical contact.

While it was not uncommon for children to wield their magic accidentally, this girl had enough control of it to actually probe him; a skill that most wizards did not achieve until adulthood; though there was the odd exception, he had wielded that level of control in his youth as had the girl's mother. However, this girl had an exceptionally powerful magical core; he would wager that she was as strong as or stronger than he had been at that age.

He dismissed her reaction to the magical contact offhandedly though; it was a typical reaction when coming in contact with more mature magic to feel a sense of disorientation, especially in children since the only ones who could control their magic that well had to have a greater sensitivity to magic in the first place.

His thoughts took only a few moments to run their course so his scrutiny did not seem to be impolite. As Iris' eyes cleared up, he smirked down at the girl, "Looks like you've got a sensitive one there Lily, she reminds me of a certain someone." Riddle said as he gave the woman a pointed look before returning his gaze to the young girl.

"As I'm sure you're aware, I am Professor Tom Riddle; Deputy Headmaster and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts." He held his hand out to the young girl as he introduced himself, the same self-satisfied smirk returning to his face though it did little to detract from his good looks.

Iris mentally shook herself from the remnants of the magical contact, before she stepped forward and took the man's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Pleasure to meet you Professor, I'm Iris Potter." She returned the introduction with a smirk of her own that caused the man to raise an eyebrow at her confidence.

"Are you headed into the Alley, Pro… ahem, Tom? You're more than welcome to join us; we're getting Iris school supplies." Lily corrected herself though she flushed minutely in embarrassment, though she quickly recovered.

Riddle considered her offer for a moment before nodding his head in acceptance, "I've got to pick up a few things from Gringotts first if you don't mind, and afterwards it'd be my pleasure to escort you." He said finally with a small nod of his head as if he was checking some mental spreadsheet. Gesturing towards the back room, Riddle followed up behind the pair and gave Tom a small nod as the man looked over there way.

"So Tom, how've you been all these of years?" Lily asked tentatively trying to make polite conversation with her old professor as the group shuffled out the back door and came up to the brick entryway of Diagon Alley.

"The usual. Teaching, grading, sending out acceptance letters." Riddle responded tersely in clipped sentences, even to Iris' younger psyche the way he spoke sounded like he resented the concept.

"Sorry if this is a bit forward, but why are you teaching if you dislike it so much?" Iris inquired boldly, which caused her mother to give her a stern look at the slightly rude question but Riddle just turned to give her a look through an unreadable expression before he shrugged and drew his wand.

"I like teaching fine." He said, though under his breath he hissed something that sounded like, _§"When the students aren't immature little prats"§ _

Lily stared at the man curiously as Iris laughed softly; "We're not all prats, y'know?" she replied with a smirk as Riddle drew his wand. He paused in the middle of the motion and starred at the girl curiously.

_§"You can understand what I'm saying?"§ _he asked while Iris frowned at him confusedly at the somewhat sibilant sounding words. _§"Of course I can, it's not like you're speaking French; not that it matters since I know that too."§_ she responded noticing the undertone of hissing in her voice before realizing that she had just been talking in parseltongue to the man.

She desperately wanted to smack herself in the forehead for being careless with that but she had honestly never conversed with a person using it before, relying on her Occlumency; Iris pulled the wards sharply as he forced herself to control her emotions.

She couldn't afford to let her secret slip so she had to play the role of an innocent but confused child which wasn't all that difficult as since half of her psyche actually had no idea what was going on.

Lily looked down at her daughter concernedly before looking up at Riddle who simply looked thoughtful at the turn of events.

"There is certainly more to you than meets the eye Miss Potter, I believe these will be a most interesting few years." He stated cryptically as he tapped out the proper sequence causing the brick wall to part and grant them entrance.

As Iris' eyes fell on the pale column of wood she felt a twitch in her left hand and a sudden desire to reach for the instrument before she mastered herself and stuck her hand firmly in her pocket.

* * *

><p><strong>Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Diagon Alley, England, UK<strong>

**July 31, 1991**

**12:00 PM**

The group's first stop was to Gringotts Wizarding Banks, which was a surreal experience since the last memory Iris had of this place was Harry escaping on the back of a half-blind dragon after retrieving one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

The group ascended the white stairs to the burnished copper doors; Riddle opened the doors for his female companions and led the way through the opulent marble hall that was flanked on either side by goblins.

Iris' memories kicked in here; the first time that Harry had entered this place he had been a stranger to the Wizarding World and oblivious to the decorum and mannerisms that were respected of the scion of the Potter House. But in this reality, Iris had full knowledge of what was required of her as the representative of the House of Potter.

"Welcome to Gringotts; Lady Potter, Miss Potter. I am Grimtukk." The goblin teller greeted the women in the sneering, nasally voice that showed his disdain for them as he expected that the Muggleborn and Half-blood representatives of the House would not know the old ways. He was visibly taken aback when both women dipped gracefully into curtsies.

"Merry met, Grimtukk," they responded in near unison in the traditional greeting to the goblins; he actually gave a pointy toothed smile as he gave a short bow of his head. "Merry met; Lady Potter, Miss Potter. How may I be of service?" He responded less coldly and without the sneer that had been present in his former greeting.

After the women had made their introduction, Riddle stepped up behind them and inclined his head respectfully which prompted the goblin to return a deeper bow than he had given the women. "Lord Slytherin, what might I do for you?" The goblin inquired after righting himself.

Iris looked at Riddle through the corner of her eye and felt as though that title should mean something more to her, but for the life of her she could not bring the memory up. She could remember Voldemort having some ties to the name and the she clearly remembered the Chamber of Secrets from his reality that had been the remnant of Salazar Slytherin's prejudices; but she had this inkling that there was more to remember but could not draw up the information.

A sudden fear filled her; Hecate had said that some memories would be forgotten lest her melded mind shatter, if she pried too much into this train of thought would she risk fracturing her mind? The goddess had performed some hefty magic on her behalf, if she destroyed her sanity out of curiosity how could she protect her family from Grindewald and Voldemort.

She couldn't be that selfish, so she simply acknowledged that she knew there was more to the story but would not know what that information was until she relearned it; and hopefully by that time her integrated consciousness of being Harry and Iris together would prevent her from going mad.

Riddle looked up at the goblin, "I have to make a withdrawal from vault seven-one-three as well as my personal vault." He explained shortly while Lily followed up with, "And we'll be making a withdrawal from the Potter Vault."

In short order, the group had been moved underground along a series of tunnels, first stopping at the vault that Riddle had mentioned before from which he withdrew a solitary parcel. They had proceeded next to the Potter vault where Lily had taken a drawstring pouch from within her robes and busied herself with filling it while Iris had looked around.

In Harry's reality he had discovered that the vault he had been going to for years to make his withdrawals had actually been a trust vault that had accumulated interest for much of his life. When he had turned seventeen he had inherited the Potter vault as well which was where they were now; while this vault did hold a vast fortune as well, what had drawn Harry's attention had been the amount of texts; family lore, histories, and the grimoires and tomes that had been filled since the formation of the Potter line.

To Iris' eye, this vault held much the same information, though there was something different this time around; a flickering along her periphery that drew her to a corner of vault behind a pile of gold.

When she stood in the corner, she could sense the trace amounts of Hecate's magic leading her to a certain stack of books laying abandoned in corner away from the rest of the texts that were condensed into a pile in the rear of the vault.

Pulling a pouch of her own from her pocket, Iris carefully slipped each of the old texts into the leather confines; thankfully the pouch had been bespelled with an Expansion and Feather-weight Charm to the extent that she could have packed a caribou in confines of the pouch if she needed to.

With the texts stored and a handful of galleons for good measure, she returned to Lily who had been waiting for her and learned that Riddle had proceeded to his vault without them. He returned in short time and the group made their way out of Gringotts and back onto Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p><strong>Diagon Alley, England, UK<strong>

**July 31, 1991**

**3:00 PM**

Iris had found that shopping with her mother had been a much more fun occasion than it had been as Harry, although in retrospect it had nothing to do with his gender but more to do with his company. Shopping for supplies had been a hassle because everywhere Harry had gone, he had been met with gawkers and onlookers that had wanted to rub against his fame.

And when you separated the strangers, you had to deal with the Weasley clan; Ginny crushing on him had made things awkward a lot of the time and then you figure Ron was constantly sulking because of his 'best mate's' fame and wealth. When you combined the two halves it was no wonder why he had despised making any kind of public appearance.

But in this reality, Iris was just a girl out shopping with her mum, even Professor Riddle had been welcome company throughout the affair; it seemed the man had an inexhaustible supply of information on everything and it had been fun to watch him deal with his own admirers.

It seemed that being exceptionally powerful, wealthy, and good looking had conspired to make him one of the wizarding world's most eligible bachelors. He handled the attention well though, ignoring it for the most part as he conversed with Lily about her work as an enchantress or pointing out a useful point of information to Iris for when she got to Hogwarts.

By the time that three o'clock had rolled around; Iris had been fitted for her Hogwarts robes at Twilfit and Tattings, which in all honesty was a place Harry had never gone before; but seeing as how Iris' family was rather well off it didn't seem out of place for them to be shopping there than at Madam Malkin's.

In point of fact, Iris had preferred the upper scale establishment since they had offered a better selection of materials and services then their competitors. By the time they left the clothing outfitter, their order had provided for a full set of uniforms and robes that were charmed to be self-ironing, stain proff, and water repelling; as well as a heavy winter cloak that was to be charmed with a warming spell in conjunction with the other spells.

As an afterthought, Iris had also requested a leather messenger bag with an expansion charm and feather weight charms; if she got sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw this time around, she wouldn't be doing a repeat of carrying her texts books and items up to the seventh floor towers when it had an extra twenty pounds biting into her collar and constantly bumping into her side.

The rest of the shopping had gone by smoothly, the apothecary for ingredients as well as the scale and a charmed set of unbreakable crystal phials, the cauldron shop was self-explanatory although she had gotten one of her mother's self-cleaning collapsible cauldrons for a quarter of the retail price, and general supply store from which they purchased a telescope.

As they were making their way to Flourish and Blott's to pick up the school books, Iris recalled how Snape's old textbook from sixth year had been full of helpful tips and notes and she wondered what the odds were that her mother, an exceptionally bright witch in her own regard would not have done the same to her old text books.

"Hey mum, do you think I could use your old school books instead of getting new ones?" Iris asked after contemplating how she was going to sell this. Lily paused in front of the book store and eyed her daughter curiously before taking a look at the book list that had come with the Hogwarts acceptance letter. Riddle had already entered the store ahead of them, looking genuinely interested for the first time throughout the outing.

"Well, I don't see why not; most of the books are the same if newer editions. But why not get new ones?" Lily asked her daughter as she gave her an odd look. Iris of course couldn't explain the thought process of hoping for a heavily annotated textbook with new spells and the like so she gave the response that would fit a young, sheltered child instead.

"Since this is the first time I'll be spending most of my time away from home, I was hoping to hold onto something of yours so I don't get homesick." And of course, the second that those words were out of her mouth; Lily enveloped her daughter in hug and getting all misty eyed. The reaction was so sweet that Iris actually felt a little guilty for lying and looked down embarrassedly while Lily ran a hand through her daughter's curly-wavy hair.

"Of course sweetheart, I've still got all my school books packed away in my study; and whatever books they've changed that we don't have in the library probably aren't worth reading and I'll get you something better. Still, we should probably head inside to see if there's anything you like, eh?"

Iris nodded her head and gave her mother a smile before opening the door for her and following the red headed woman into the store. The bookstore was pretty empty considering it was a Tuesday afternoon, the few people who were hanging around in the store seemed to be in the midst of studying, looking up at Lily, Iris cocked an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

Lily smiled down at her daughter, "They're studying for their Masteries; most career choices don't require them because you start of as an apprentice generally, but some people choose to forego the apprenticeship by getting their qualifications as masters in their fields of study. I've got Masteries in Charms and Potions, and your father has Mastery in Transfiguration."

Iris considered mulled over that information as she began looking through the selections of texts that filled the shelves; she recalled at Harry's Ordinary Wizarding Level tests at the end of fifth year but because of the Second Wizarding War he had never gone back to finish his studies to take his N.E.W.T.'s although Hermione had.

If she could fix things in this universe then just maybe she would get a chance to fulfill her career at Hogwarts this time around; she still had the advantage of knowing how things were most likely going to play out here, and if certain key events failed to transpire in this universe or at least happened differently than just maybe she could prevent all hell from breaking loose.

With something of a knowing smirk, Iris had taken down a few advanced texts that she could get away with grabbing so if she used some of her otherworldly knowledge; she wouldn't draw too much attention as to how she knew it and after some exploration in the library over the past month or so; there were a few tomes that she would generally like to nick for her time away at Hogwarts.

After purchasing the books, Iris had to listen to Riddle hissing under his breath over the limited choice of books that the store had to offer although it seemed he had purchased quite a few books himself despite his grumbling.

A visit to Eyelop's Owl Emporium had followed, and Iris had nearly broken down at seeing the familiar snowy owl sitting in display; to see the loyal companion that had been with Harry throughout his wizarding life had filled her with happiness at the prospect of reclaiming another life that had been claimed unfairly.

As the entered the story, Iris gave a cursory glance over the stores many breeds but she made her way to stand beside the snowy owl's cage. As she approached, the owl turned her head as though studying the eleven year old before making eye contact and amber eyes stared into emerald for a long moment before the owl bobbed its head and leaned forward allowing Iris to stroke its plumage.

The store's proprietress approached, she was a diminutive woman with salt and pepper hair with wide eyes that resembled the owls she sold. "Well I'll be… I ain't ever seen that bird being so friendly with anyone before, specially with someone she don't know. Seems like you've got the hand for creatures darling, a rare gift that." The wizened witch said kindly to Iris while Lily and Riddle watched curiously at the scene.

Iris pondered those words for a moment as she continued to stroke the owl's feathers, watching as the bird's eyes closed and she hooted appreciatively. "I don't know about that, but she's definitely something special alright."

They purchased the owl quickly and returned to the Leaky Cauldron for a small and late lunch while Lily took the Floo home to deposit the purchases they were carrying so far and letting out Hedwig to stretch her wings after being cooped up in her cage for so long.

At long last their final stop was Olivander's Wand Shop and this was the moment that Iris was dreading; she remembered Harry's first time there and how it had taken so long for a wand to finally choose him. Things in this reality had played out very differently so far, between Grindewald marking Neville; Voldemort falling to the rear as the main antagonist and disappearing, the fact that her family was alive.

With everything that had gone on, Iris wasn't even the same person she had been when the holly wand had picked her; now she was the melding of two intelligences, two personalities, completely separate and entirely like the two portions of her psyche. Not to mention she was the representative of a goddess that was connected to several different flora; most primarily being yew and cypress.

As the group approached the wand shop, they came upon a group exiting the establishment; it took Iris a moment but she finally recognized the boy as Neville Longbottom. He was still the same pudgy kid that had existed in her old universe but he was flanked by a much more severe looking Frank then the photos of the Order had presented; then again in this universe he had survived torture, watched helplessly as his wife was murdered, and then lived with the persistent fame that his son dealt with that reminded him of his wife's death.

The resentment and disdain he had for his son was clearly evident by the way he glowered at the child who was looking at his new wand with wide eyes while he looked up at his stepmother's too wide smile. This woman was walking with a hand constantly placed on Neville's shoulder or on his head as she looked around at everybody she passed with a smug superiority.

It was no wonder that the boy had become such a stuck-up prat, he was getting all the attention from his stepmother who was playing him up as the savior of Britain. With that kind of home life there was ample opportunity for his ego to bloat up to extreme proportions; as long as Dumbledore stroked the boy's ego, Neville would fetch and roll over if it meant staying the savior.

As it was when the group passed Neville and his parents the boy openly sneered at them while his mother gave Lily a look that was filled with derisiveness and contempt though she smiled lecherously at Riddle and batted her eyes at the man, Frank maintained his scowl; it lightened a bit seeing Lily but when he saw his wife's antics it deepened further and he gave Riddle a venomous glare.

Entering the store, Iris actually gave a small sigh of relief, "I can't believe I'm going to be stuck with that kid for the next seven years! Homicide was never more appealing." She stated flatly while her mother gave her a wide eyed stare before she gave an outright laugh, a warm and pleasant sound.

Even Riddle had an amused smirk though he quickly schooled his expression, "I don't see why you're complaining; I'll have to read every one of his essays for the foreseeable future!" he said in an equal dead-pan to which Iris tittered at.

"Ah yes, that was one of my more frustrating appointments; difficult to find a wand for that kind of child but I always do. Welcome Miss Potter, I've been expecting you." Olivander emerged from the rear of the shop with an amused smile as he gave a nod to the other adults in the room. "Pleasure to see you again Lord Slytherin, Lady Potter; it seems like just the other day when I gave you both your wands and here you are bringing me the next generation."

Lily smiled at the eccentric wand maker as she drew her wand from inside her sleeve, "I remember that day fondly Mr. Olivander."

"As well you should, the day you get your first wand is truly a remarkable one indeed; now let's see. Yes, ten and one quarter inches, willow, rather swishy and good for charms." Olivander said after he paused for a moment and looked at Riddle, "Thirteen and one half inches, yew with a phoenix pinion; if I remember correctly."

This time Iris felt a sharp tug on the edge of her awareness at those words as she was struck by the familiarity of that wand but was left with nothing to connect it to, in fact everything about the Professor had seemingly tickled the edges of her memories but there was nothing there for her draw on which added to her feelings of frustration.

As the emotions came to a head, Iris was suddenly filled with a soothing calm and she could smell dittany in the air around her signifying that Hecate was there. It seemed that the goddess had sensed her champion's distress and was comforting her, "All in time child, everything will come in time; I promise you that. You need only to trust me, and I will pay you in time for that trust."

The voice came to her in a soft whisper and she was sure that no one but her could hear what the ancient being was saying; so she gave a barely perceptible nod of acquiescence and felt the soothing presence retreat though the scent of dittany hung around her leaving her in a much more serene state than she had been only a few moments before.

Olivander turned his attention down to the raven haired girl with a curious smile, "Well then Miss Potter, let's see which wand picks you shall we; now which is your wand hand?" Iris considered the question for a moment, Harry had been right handed but had learned to duel with both hands and the young Iris had been a lefty; effectively leaving her ambidextrous at this point.

Iris decided that for consistency's sake she should use her left hand so she held it forward as the wand maker descended upon her with a tape measure and begin to measure her from finger to shoulder, shoulder to hip, armpit to floor, and even around her head.

"You must understand something Miss Potter; it is not the witch who chooses the wand, but the wand that chooses the witch. You see, the connections are complex but what we those of us with wandlore know; there is first an initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience." Olivander was saying as he wandered into the rows of the shop while the tape measure continued to do its things and… well, measure her.

He returned after a moment and proffered a wand towards her, "Ash, ten inches, unicorn hair. And you can stop measuring." At his words, the tape fell limply to the floor and Iris grabbed hold of the wand, she attempted to send some of her magic through it as she gave a small flick of her wrist and managed to shatter the mirrors in the shop.

Olivander blanched slightly as he quickly took the wand and shook his head, "Nope, no definitely not!" he placed the wand down and went to fetch another, "Ah, here we are; ebony, twelve inches, dragon heartstring." Again he handed the wand to the young girl but even as her hands settled on the instrument he was pulling it out of her hand.

As the events continued, Lily took the seat in the corner while Riddle moved to lean by the door and began to flip through one of the books he had purchased from Flourish and Blott's; as Olivander removed yet another wand from Iris' hand he looked over at the man and was seemingly struck by inspiration. "Yes, I think I've got just the wand for you!" he stated excitingly as he shuffled into the back and returned brushing off a heavily dusted box, opening it he held out the familiar wand to Iris.

Reaching forward her hand hovered over the eleven inches of warm holly before it leaped the last few inches into her hand, her fingers curling around the wood reflexively. The wand felt good in her hand but it didn't feel quite right until she switched it over to her right hand, Harry's wand hand then there was a flush of magic as if something had just clicked into place and the wand began to pulse strongly in her hands.

Riddle frowned as he looked up from his book and drew his wand, which seemed to be pulsing just as strongly as Iris'. As both wands were exposed to one another, a ribbon of gold blossomed between the two; before threads of silver and malachite began to spread from Riddle's spread along the ribbon to meet scarlet and cobalt threads that had emerged from Iris'.

Lily looked shocked at the beautiful light display and looked at the wandmaker, "Olivander, what's going on!" she asked with the alarm clearly apparent in her usually calm voice. "The wands are reveling in reunion." He said simply with one of his knowing smiles without elaborating further.

The magic continued to swirl about the store causing Iris' ebony locks to dance about the air at the brilliant light show; she was staring transfixed by the beauty of interconnecting magic before just as suddenly as the connection had formed a bright pulse of light ended the connection. She looked down at her wand saddened by the loss of the beautiful colors but happy to have the holly wand back in her hand.

Riddle stared at his own wand bewilderedly with a number of emotions flitting through his obsidian eyes though his face did not betray his emotions, and for some reason that saddened Iris immeasurably before she looked at Olivander with a curious gaze.

"Well, I'd say that this most definitely the wand for me, but what was all that?" She asked the question that seemed to be on everyone's mind because Lily and Riddle looked from her to Olivander expectantly.

"You see Miss Potter, the wand you hold there has the core of a phoenix feather, and the phoenix in question gave just one other feather. That feather resides at the heart of Mr. Riddle's wand, and so the wands were celebrating their reunion. But take this as a warning; unless you wish for your wands to rejoice once more, you should not turn them against one another." Olivander said in a near whisper that forced the room's occupants to lean in to hear his words.

"And that will be seven galleons." Olivander said with a merry smile on his face that broke the tension in the air, Iris moved to stand by Riddle while Lily handled the transaction; looking up at the professor, he met her gaze and looked down into her curious green eyes with his calculating black.

"Why do I have the feeling that this is just the beginning of a long seven years?" he asked quietly, to which she gave him a smirk before responding with, "Because anyone can spot foreshadowing when it makes a lightshow."

If looks could kill, the glare he fixed her with should have given her cardiac arrest; instead she just shrugged off with that cool smirk of hers. "You're lucky I can't give out detentions until after classes start." He said flatly as they shuffled out of the store oblivious to the knowing smile that Olivander had plastered on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, UK<strong>

**July 31, 1991**

**10:00 PM**

Upon saying goodbye to Professor Riddle, the Potter women had departed the Leaky Cauldron in time to begin making dinner and sharing the day's events with Remus, James, and Liatris. They had all been interested in the events that had occurred at Olivander's and Iris had shown them her new wand to which she earned a chorus of congratulations from around the table.

Unfortunately, James had to head to the Ministry shortly to begin his shift and Liatris had helped Lily clear the table while Iris went upstairs to sort her new belongings. It hadn't taken long to get her mother's old trunk from her study and sort through her belongings to get the school books she had been promised. Thankfully, the trunk at the foot of Iris' bed was enchanted for space and multiple compartments because she took full advantage of it.

The first of the compartments had been used for her school books and supplies, the second compartment she reserved for her clothes and personal items; she locked this particular compartment with a password before opening the third compartment.

In this final space she unloaded the books from the Potter vault with the intention of checking into them when she got back to the school and could get into the Room of Requirement; Hecate had guided her to them for a reason so there must be something of importance within them. She sealed the compartment using a parselmouth password and smiled to herself at the phrase, _§"Wands rejoice"§_

But after everything was sorted and stored, Iris was exhausted and changed into her sleepwear before crawling up under the heavy down comforter. She was fast asleep by the time Lily came to check up on her daughter and she stared down at her daughter concernedly before kissing her forehead and moving on downstairs to her study. Sitting at her desk, the redheaded woman drew out a sheet of parchment and began to write;

"Cissy,

Something's wrong with Iris, I know you had your suspicions before but after taking her to the Alley today, I know something isn't right. She was using parseltongue, she stood toe to toe with Tom Riddle and instead of that demure little girl was someone much more confident and her magic is right there with Dumbledore, Grindewald, and Riddle; before I couldn't be sure but once she got that wand I could practically feel the power radiating off of her.

I was thinking on what you said, Liatris has class in the morning and James will be going on a training exercise to Germany next week. Whoever is pretending to be Iris uses the mornings to walk the grounds, if you're still with me; it'll be the only opportunity to find out what is going on. I cannot allow this imposter to reside in my home for another moment while my daughter is being held captive somewhere.

Yours,

Lily"

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><p><strong>AN: **A lot going on in this chapter, and it took me considerably longer to write it then I had thought it would. As you can see, I stepped up my plans on merging Iris and Harry and introduced Riddle to the story; in order for this storyline to work Riddle and Harry will need to be working from a blank slate and I needed to have a plot device to provide that reset button so there you have it.

Please leave a review if you liked the story or even if you didn't like the story. Flames will be ignored so trolls don't bother. If you have any questions that you want to ask and don't spoil the story, feel free to leave it in the reviews and I'll shoot you a pm.

**Next Chapter: **_Train Rides, Sorting, and maybe the first day of classes._


	4. Chapter III

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, HG/OC, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/OC, DM/DG, OC/GW/OC

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for your reviews, I know I've only got a few so far but I really do take the time to read them all; you guys serve as my motivation to write up the next chapter and I would be loath to disappoint you.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter III**

**Potter Manor, Warwickshire, UK**

**August 6, 1991**

**4:30 AM**

The week after Iris' birthday passed with little variation on what it had been for the summer so far; Iris awoke early in the morning to help Lily cook breakfast before Liatris and Remus came down to partake in the morning meal. Liatris grabbed her bag and departed via Floo to her classes, while Remus left for the Ministry to continue his Mastery classes so that he could become the teacher he wanted to be.

Which left the Iris with very little to do since once Lily waved them off she settled in her workrooms to take care of whatever she was working on now. So Iris took the time to walk around the estate with her journal, it had proven to be a productive distraction; using a cipher charm that Harry had learned from Shacklebolt, it caused the words that were written to shift to a random jumble of letters unless you knew the keyphrase that unscrambled the words.

Lily had been surprised of course when Iris started using her wand in the house to levitate books to her from across the library; in fact the woman had quite nearly blown up on her daughter for being irresponsible. That had been an amusing discussion once Iris had explained the Ministry's trace spell.

"Mum, it's really not that big of an issue; the Ministry has a rule on Irresponsible Underage Magic, as long as the magic is performed in the residence with an adult witch or wizard the trace doesn't set off any alarms; and since Dad is right downstairs sleeping the Trace counts it as acceptable use." Iris had explained as she fetched one of the books from her bookcase and flipped it open so Lily could read the information for herself.

"What! So just because you live with magical parents you can practice your magic! What about all the Muggleborns!" Lily shrieked in indignation to which Iris just shrugged, "I didn't make the rules, I just know the loopholes." The young raven haired replied, "Maybe you should write a letter mum."

"You know what! I am, let's see how those pompous politicians like it when I put foot to ar… um, bum!" Lily corrected herself for the sake of her child, though Iris simply smiled at her mother's antics while the woman stormed from the room muttering something about teaching those feather brained hypocrites a thing or two.

In any case, the walks were a remnant from Harry's life; after fighting in a war he had been set on staying in shape; a fit wizard was a strong wizard after all, you didn't see very many portly wizards winning duels now did you?

So Iris had been content to spend her morning doing a five mile stroll, calories burn over distance; you burn the same amount of calories running five miles as walking five miles it just took longer to walk it.

The walks had done her some good too; a lot of the excess baby fat that she had been on the eleven year old had faded leaving her lithe and slim, not that she really needed to lose any weight she was just a kid after all but the activity felt good and once you started getting into a regimen the body starts to feel bad if you don't keep it up. Which is why being fit was a lifestyle and not something you could just touch on and leave be.

The week had been slightly unusual though, 'Aunt' Cissy had been spending a lot of time over lately; which Iris didn't exactly mind since it meant that Draco was over more often too, the young blonde was surprisingly easy to talk to and they got along well now that he wasn't being a vindictive jerk.

They often spent the afternoons in the library helping Liatris getting her assignments done while playing chess or exploding snap; the boy was a born strategist it seemed since even with Iris' years of playing chess against Ron she still only won about half the time.

And when Aunt Cissy came over, Lily and her would disappear into the basement for hours; they had claimed it was a potion that had required to skilled potion brewers to make it effectively and since the woman was an enchantress and Narcissa had at least some experience as Mediwitch based on Harry's experience with her it stood to reason that the woman could brew.

Still, Iris couldn't help but feel that her mother was hiding something; she was still the affectionate woman mother that she had come to know and love even more deeply than before but she had noticed the woman's lingering gaze at meals and the awkward silences that had risen up between the two lately. It might just have been her imagination but after living through a war, paranoia wasn't irrational if someone was actually out to get you.

When Sunday, the fifth had rolled around it had been a sad occasion; James was leaving for an international training session in Germany. It seemed that the Aurors did it about four times a year; they went to other countries for training and competition to foster international relations in law enforcement.

It was only a week long trip but it was intense with day and nighttime operations so he would be required to spend the entire week there instead of going to and fro from the event location. They had made the best of the day, the girls had helped him to pack and there had been some playful rough housing on the big king sized bed in the master suite while the man delayed leaving until the last possible minute.

He promised to bring them back souvenirs and Lily had warned him about getting into any trouble at any of the beer houses, it seemed the last time they had worked with the Germans more than just their magical endurance had been tested.

After he departed for the evening, Narcissa and Draco had come over to spend the night since Lucius was likewise out of the country on a trade mission to France on behalf of the Minister; which basically meant that there was something that the English government needed and they needed a smooth talker to get it from the French Ministry.

For Lily, the week had been frustrating; whoever was posing as her daughter was damn good, they knew all of the girl's nuances and mannerisms and it was so easy to just think it was still her daughter but there was just too much wrong.

Narcissa had pointed it out after the girl's birthday party; Iris had indeed become much more social and that was normal preteen behavior, to see the young witch coming out of her shell a bit more especially as the school year approached and she would be leaving home for long periods at a time.

But Narcissa had also noticed the girl's vocabulary was far more advanced than even an exceptionally intelligent child might have, and the girl who had already been mature for her age was now participating in adult discussions that should have been way over her head.

When the news hit that Gringotts had been broken into the day that they had gone, she had stated offhandedly that it wouldn't surprise her if some wizards began taking out their money. Sure enough, the entire market had dipped as people withdrew their money in favor of foreign banks.

Still that might have just been coincidence, but Narcissa had pointed out how the girl flew; it had never really struck Lily since the girl had been flying almost every day with her sister so it would make sense that the girl would have gotten better but when Cissy explained that the roll and loop maneuver was something that even experienced players had trouble performing without falling off their brooms it suggested that things were not right. The girl had been something of a seeking prodigy according to James and Sirius but her game had improved dramatically in the last month.

So here they were, the two women sitting in the basement finishing the last of a Reversal Potion that would force someone out of their Polyjuice disguise, and Lily had polished off the glasses that could see through glamour charms. Narcissa had even brought a bottle of Veritaserum to force the imposter to reveal the truth about who sent the imposter and where Iris was.

"Cissy, if we do all this and she is actually Iris; as little chance as there is of it, what do we do then?" Lily asked the older woman worriedly, it reminded Cissy of how their friendship had started all those years ago at Hogwarts, back when Lily had been an ignorant Muggleborn in a new world. "If that's the case, I'm not half bad at memory charms…" she said with a slight smirk.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**October 15, 1971**

Those had been some interesting years; Narcissa had first discovered the girl sitting in the back of the library away from everyone else reading a treatise of magical etiquette and customs. It was apparent that the girl had no idea what she was reading and it had irked the pureblood witch, she had approached the girl rather nastily.

"Look at the little Mudblood reading about magic, it's absolutely sickening that you're here!" The slim blonde fifth year had spat angrily causing the young redhead girl to jump and stare at the girl reproachfully, though there had been a fear in those eyes then.

"I don't even know who you are, why are you being mean to me!" The girl had said defiantly from her seat, glaring up at the older student, her voice had been a bit shaky but Narcissa gave her points for effort. Still, she wasn't going to take that kind of back talk from a first year, and a Mudblood at that.

"Because you're the pollution that is strangling the magical world; every year this school sinks lower and lower trying to make your lot more comfortable. You don't even know our ways and their being forgotten for your sake!" She hissed at the girl furiously as she descended and got in the girl's face with her scathing retort.

Lily's lip had quivered then as she leaned back and looked down and away from the furious visage of Narcissa. "I never asked anyone to change their ways, all I want to do is learn… if you're so upset about it; why don't you teach me your traditions." The girl had said softly, but there was an honest sincerity in those words that it actually took Narcissa back in surprise.

She didn't know why but she had the feeling that this girl was genuinely interested in learning about her traditions. When the girl looked up at her with teary eyes and such an earnest expression, she crumbled like a sand castle. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this… fine I'll teach you; but I won't accept any talking back and if you insult any of the traditions it'll be the end of it. Understood?"

Lily's face had spread into such a radiant smile the Slytherin Ice Queen felt her heart thaw just a bit as she slipped into the seat across from the table and took the book the girl had pulled out and began to explain things to her. It had been the start of a long and lasting friendship.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, UK<strong>

**August 6, 1991**

**7:00 AM**

Iris had descended for breakfast and found that Narcissa and Lily were already laying out the dishes for breakfast; Iris was a bit confused by this since cooking was something that usually she and her mother did together. As she sat down in her usual seat at the shoulder of the table; Iris was struck by the realization that she was actually a bit hurt that her mother had cooked without her and she felt a twinge of jealousy at her 'Aunt' for taking her usual role.

Well… that was new, she was hurt because she didn't get to help cook; when had she ever felt hurt by not cooking before. Harry had certainly never felt that way when he was with the Weasley's, and certainly not camping in the woods with Hermione and Ron, and most certainly not when he dodged that chore for the Dursley's.

Had Iris ever particularly liked cooking before, she couldn't remember ever really enjoying it very much but then again she had always viewed it as a chore before. She had come to appreciate the time she had gotten to spend with her mother, perhaps since Harry had never gotten to know Lily she had stopped taking her family for granted and had come to appreciate them more.

That was a rather valuable lesson come to think of it, not taking the constants in your life for granted because as Harry had learned; constancy bred security, and that could be yanked out from under you in a heartbeat.

Still, it was just one breakfast; so mentally shrugging it off, Iris tucked in to the fried tomato and mushroom omelet that the elder witches had prepared and was suddenly struck by how foul the food tasted.

She took a hefty gulp of her juice and found that it tasted twice as horrendous; coughing and spluttering, Iris pushed back from the table ready to retch when she felt a hand clamp around her mouth like a vice before the sensation of being sucked through a straw hit her.

With a faint pop, they were outside and Iris lashed out to get free; a swift stomp to the foot and a viscous elbow to the person's gut earned a surprised grunt of pain as the raven haired witch wrenched free from her assailant. Diving forward into a roll, she came up on her feet with her wand sliding into her right hand from the concealed holster on her forearm.

Setting her gaze on Narcissa Malfoy, Iris was actually stunned for a moment as the woman cursed under her breath. "Aunt Cissy, what the hell was that for!" Iris yelled at the woman confused by the sudden turn of events. The woman looked up at her and rolled her eyes in exasperation, "I was just playing around, no need to get your knickers in a bunch."

Iris looked at the woman skeptically for a moment, the Black family had a definite history of mental instability; Bellatrix was a loony for sure and even Sirius had a bit of a vicious streak in him. Perhaps, Narcissa had finally snapped. If that was the case, then she would have to handle this very delicately or else she could set off the woman.

Looking over her shoulder, Iris saw that the Manor was still within sight so if she needed to she could make a break for it. Apparating would be faster but that would be playing a bit too much of her hand; she could get away with some basic spells here but that was years ahead of where she should be.

"Okay Aunt Cissy, I'm going to get mum and then we can play around if you want." Iris said as she turned back to face the witch, just in time to see the woman pointing her wand; "Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy!" Red jets of light streaked towards Iris, and the young witch switched from the young innocent child to the battle hardened veteran that resided in her psyche.

Crouching low, Iris ducked and weaved under the stunners and picked a moment of her own to send a return stunner with a flick of her wand. She didn't want to take this fight any further than she had to; and despite the change of events, she honestly did like this Narcissa Malfoy; she had no desire to fight her.

The blond woman raised a shield and deflected Iris' stunner into the ground as she cocked an eyebrow, "That's a bit advanced for eleven year old isn't it." She cooed with a smirk of satisfaction playing on her lips as if she had solved some puzzle. "I'm surprised that the Reversal Potion hasn't kicked in yet, I had a galleon that you were using Polyjuice. Looks like I lost that bet."

Iris blinked at the woman for a moment but understanding dawned on her quickly, Narcissa thought she was an imposter. She shook her head, "Sorry to disappoint you Auntie, but I'm all Iris." Raising her wand, the raven haired witch fired off a body-binding curse at her mother's best friend and started backing towards the manor.

Narcissa didn't seem the type to let her retreat and began to send a volley of low level hexes forcing Iris to dodge. The situation was quickly deteriorating, if Iris engaged she would be proving their suspicions correct, but if she didn't then the possibility existed that she was going to get seriously injured or killed as Narcissa continued to be frustrated.

When Narcissa continued to press and began shouting out Reductor Curses, it was becoming apparent that she would need to fight back and if she was going to fight back then she was going to make this as quick as possible.

"Ischyró Teíchos!" Iris called out as a shield blossomed from the end of her wand; unlike the Protego charm that most were familiar with, this was a strong Greek variant that was favored for one particular reason.

Iris attached the shield to her right arm and held it in front of her body like an aspis, the shield gave greater mobility and offensive capabilities but it had the down side of making the user feel every impact like an actual shield; Harry had been trying to improve it but it had been difficult working with the Greek syntax.

Slashing her wand downward as she whispered the spell, "Mastix," from the tip of the holly wand erupted a cobalt ribbon of lightning that crackled ominously and filled the air with the scent of ozone as small arcs of electricity jumped through the air. The combination of shield and whip took Narcissa by surprise and stilled her voice as the young girl inhabiting the form of her goddaughter advanced.

Lashing out with her left hand, the whip sliced through the air and slammed into Narcissa's hastily erected Protego and sent her stumbling; a second lash shattered the barrier and left her kneeling in the lawn as Iris approached. Narcissa lifted her wand to cast a curse and gasped in pain as the electric current fell upon her wrist and set her body aflame with pain as her body convulsed uncontrollably.

When the pain abated, Narcissa found herself laying on the flat of her back on the grass in the shadow of an eleven year old who had two wands in hand was glaring down at her fiercely. If that wasn't bad enough as she met those vivid emerald orbs and saw that behind the righteous fury that burned there was hurt and a sense of betrayal. Narcissa swallowed thickly as she realized her grave mistake, whatever else this child was; she was most definitely Iris Potter.

"Expelliarmus!" The words broke the silence of the air and Iris turned just in time to catch the jet of red light on the aspis she bore; the spell threw her light frame clear of Narcissa and she lost the blonde's wand in the process but she had managed to hold onto her own. Looking up, Iris saw her mother approaching with her wand pointed at her; the tip glowing an angry red as Lily Potter readied her next spell.

More so than when Narcissa had attacked her, Iris felt her throat clench at the fact that the red head was holding her at wand point while she attended to Narcissa, making sure the blonde was unharmed. While her rational brain was thinking that it made sense for the woman to check her friend, the emotional part of her being was reeling from being ambushed by her 'Aunt' and apparently her mother.

Narcissa rose shakily to her feet using Lily for support as she stared over at Iris, laying several feet away in the grass; looking defeated and heartbroken, and her heart bled for the girl. "Lily, we've made a mistake; that's Iris, she's smarter and stronger but that's Iris!" She said tiredly into the redhead's ear.

Lily looked at her sharply while her wand never moved an inch from the supine imposter, for the second time in as many minutes Narcissa was peering into emerald eyes and this time she will the other woman to believe her. Just as many close friends learn to communicate silently through looks alone, Lily shuddered as she looked between Iris and Narcissa with wide and alarmed eyes.

"Are you telling me I just attacked my daughter? That we ambushed my daughter!" Lily exclaimed with rising panic and horror evident in her voice as she looked over her eldest daughter in shock. There are very few things that affect a mother as strongly as their child being in danger, there are fewer things mother wouldn't do to keep their child safe from that danger.

But what do you do as a mother when you're the threat to your child?

And as Iris rose from the ground, the sheen of tears could be seen on her pale cheeks as she looked at the woman that she loved more than anything in the world before she turned on her heel and bolted headlong into the woods, her long coltish legs churning the ground in her haste and Lily sank to her knees with Narcissa's arms wrapping around her as someone screamed after the girl.

It was a moment before Lily realized that it was her screaming after Iris in between gut wrenching sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, UK<strong>

**August 6, 1991**

**12:00 PM**

After the disastrous events of the morning, Narcissa and Lily had spent hours wondering through the woods looking and calling out for Iris, but if the girl was there she most certainly didn't want to be found. By the time noon rolled around, both women were hoarse from shouting and had returned to the Manor to see if perhaps the girl had returned home; but of course she hadn't.

Draco had come down to see the inconsolable Lily, when he asked what had happened Narcissa explained that she and Iris had gotten into a fight and the girl had run off into the woods. He had asked to go look for her and Narcissa had acquiesced to the request; and although he had searched for an hour he came back shaking his head.

When Liatris arrived home from classes, Draco had run interference and escorted her to the library to help her with her homework leaving the adults to work out how to handle the situation with Iris. The boy was smart enough to know this wasn't a simple spat over chores but he was also smart enough to know not to pry.

The two women sat outside on the patio staring out into the woods silently, every few minutes Lily tried the Point Me spell but her wand just spun endlessly in circles in her palm. Narcissa eventually snapped at the woman to stop but had only gotten a furious glare in return.

"Don't tell me what to do Narcissa, it isn't your child out in the woods!" Lily had spat back harshly, an edge of warning in her voice that promised violence unless the blonde pureblood handled the situation extremely delicately.

"Look Lily, the girl doesn't want to be found; she'll come home when she's ready to deal and when she does we'll have to face her. That girl beat me soundly, I don't know how or why she is suddenly so much more intelligent or powerful but based on her reaction she's still the same girl we know. And we have violated her trust in ways that we can never fully comprehend." Narcissa stated gently, and for a moment Lily's eyes lit up and took on a shade of green that reminded the blonde of a particularly lethal curse before the woman subsided.

Lily seemed to fold in on herself as the anger drained out of her, "That's the understatement of the year; I cast against my daughter, not as punishment but as an attack. What if she never forgives me? What if she despises me?" she asked suddenly feeling so immeasurably exhausted at the prospect of losing her daughter.

"We'll have to earn back her trust, and it's going to take a while; maybe a lifetime but you're her mother Lily, she'll forgive you and no matter how much she won't want to, she'll still love you." Narcissa said as she took the redhead in her arms and comforted her gently; stroking the woman's head soothingly and she prayed fervently that she was right.

Out in the woods, Iris was lying on her back in a small glade absently stroking the head of one of the adders that resided in the woods, it seemed that several of them had felt her presence as she stormed through the woods and feeling her emotional turmoil had come to sooth her. Harry had often detested his ability to use parseltongue but for Iris, the ability was much more a blessing; while these companions were serpentine there were no less comforting.

Internally, she was conflicted about the morning's events; to the part of her mind that was Harry, she felt the rational presence of a much older person. Lily and Narcissa had noticed unexplainable changes, they had feared and in their fear for the unknown had lashed out, it was human and she should forgive them. Family was too important, too precious to hold a grudge over this.

But to the part of her mind that was the young girl, she felt betrayed and angry; her mother and her godmother, the two people she had thought she could trust more than anyone else in the world had fallen upon her. They hadn't talked or expressed any of their concerns, they had leaped to conclusions and attacked her; how could she ever trust them again after something like that.

When she expressed her thoughts to the adder that had encircled her wrist like a bangle, the feminine hiss had responded, _§"Pregnant mothersss ssstrike at all threatsss. Your mother confusssed threat for hatchling and became threat. She will punisssh herssself for worssse than you can. Let her wallow, then return; forgive, but never forget."§ _

That had been a thought provoking piece, forgive but never forget; it seemed very un-Gryffindor to behave that way but somehow she could not bring herself to care overly much. She was upset, half of her knew that this was the mother that had given her life for her son; but this woman wasn't dead, she hadn't laid down her life for her child's.

The unshakeable faith and love that had existed in Harry didn't fit with who she was now, because in this universe her parents weren't these pedestalled people who could do no wrong; they were flesh and blood. They made mistakes, and this was one mistake that would be very hard to forgive; and she knew that when everything was said and done, they would want answers.

An eleven year old did not best a full grown woman who had more years dueling, than she had been brushing her own hair. They would want to know how she was that strong, that skilled; and they would press for that information. Maybe not now, but they would in the future; and there was nothing she could offer them but the truth, nothing else would make sense.

But even then, would they believe that a version of herself, who was a he, had come from the future and then melded with the consciousness that was Iris; at the behest of a goddess, with some plan for wizarding and/or mankind that had yet to be revealed; so that this future self could live a full and rewarding life with everyone that had been taken from him.

Most likely she would get chucked into St. Mungo's faster than she could blink; she could always take a Wizarding Oath but that had the chance of stripping her of life and magic, something she wasn't willing to risk; there was Veritaserum, which would force her to tell the truth.

That last was probably the best option she had going for her and it would satisfy both her mother and Narcissa; and she could finally let the secret out. It weighed so heavily on her to keep things hidden but once her mother found out that her daughter was now more than just her daughter, how would she react.

Iris considered asking the snake that question but she knew that snakes didn't really stick around to watch their hatchlings grow up and become competition; they fulfilled their duty once they laid the young and they hatched.

Several hours had passed by now and she could feel hunger creeping on her and she had long since cried her tears; the part of her mind that was Harry had rationalized it, explained it, and once you knew the motivation it was difficult to keep that anger stoked.

But she also knew that while she would forgive them their trespasses, she would not forget that they had attacked her; she still loved her mother and Aunt Cissy but it would be difficult to confide in them again until she had more time to let the hurt pass and heal.

With a heavy sigh, Iris spoke to the serpents _§"I'm going to move now, no body better bite me!"§_ she hissed as she sat up, the adders that had been resting on her and taking in her body heat and sunbathing grumbled as they slithered off of her, as she set her hand on the ground to rise up the female that had been coiled around her wrist detached and slithered off into the grass.

Standing up carefully, Iris made sure she wasn't going to step on any of the snakes as she headed out of the small clearing and made her way back towards the manor, as she looked up at the sky she could see crimson staining the sky and was struck by just how late it actually was. She had stayed away from home for nearly the entire day and she wondered how everyone was going to react to her return.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, UK<strong>

**August 6, 1991**

**5:30 PM**

When Iris had arrived back at the Manor she saw first off that her mother had been extremely distraught and that Narcissa was barely better off, both women looked like they had gone twelve rounds with their conscious and lost before the third round. They both had puffy bloodshot eyes and they had blotchy complexions from their bouts of crying.

They had been waiting for her on the patio and looked like they had been there for most of the day at that, they had both perked up when she had approached them but before they could say anything, Iris had held up a hand to stave off their words.

"I understand what you did and why you did it; if I was in your place I might have done the same thing. I know that you took those actions because you love me, and therefore I can't bring myself to not love you both just as much. I forgive you…" Iris began softly, relying on that strong maturity that centered her now, that gave her understanding beyond her years and a quiet strength to talk to the two women she respected most.

Lily and Narcissa were staring at the eleven year old girl with surprise; they had not expected the girl to be so rational; in one fell swoop she had taken their arguments right out of their mouths and told them she still loved them and that she forgave them. But it was apparent the girl had more to say and they held their breath as they waited for the other shoe to drop.

"… but don't think that my forgiveness means this becomes water under the bridge! What you two did hurt! I love you two more than anything, you're my family; and you attacked me! I won't forget that and it's going to take me a while to trust you both again…" And there it was, the shoe dropped and yet they both knew that somehow they had gotten off easy, although for Lily it was one of the most shameful and painful things to bear.

She had broken her daughter's trust; the single most powerful thing that existed on the planet was a parent and child's unconditional love for their each other and in a single moment Lily had lost that with her daughter.

"…I know you're both confused about me right now, how I'm smarter, more mature, how I'm more powerful; believe me when I say that I desire nothing more in this world then to tell you why. But I can't, not now; and I know it's unfair of me to ask, but just trust me, give me time… time to move past this, and I'll tell you everything. Okay?"

And Iris' words said it all; she loved, she forgave, but she hurt. Lily had caused that hurt, and not amount of wanting to take it away would make it happen; and so she simply said, "Of course Iris, you tell us when you can… and Iris, I'm sorry." Lily tried to keep her composure, she held onto that with everything she had because she did not have the right to show how much her daughter's words pained her.

"Me too mum, I'm sorry too." Iris said the words quietly as she tried to give her mother a reassuring smile, but she knew it was false and she knew by her mother's face that she knew it was a false smile too. So Iris turned away, she went into the manor and climbed the stairs but not without hearing her mother's quiet sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, UK<strong>

**September 1, 1991 **

**9:00 AM**

The final three weeks of summer were an awkward affair at the Potter Manor, everyone knew that Iris had a rather large row with Narcissa and Lily but no one brought it up; and although Remus had arrived and smelt the salt in the air, he had not pried.

Iris had found counsel and respite in Remus, the man was a sensitive soul and exceedingly kind; it sometimes was strange that within the man lay a beast that hungered and warred but if anyone understood the dichotomy of being two different entities simultaneously, it was him.

She confided in him about what happened that day and he had simply rocked the young girl until she was spent of her tears and frustration; and when she asked him how come he never questioned it he had simply responded, "You can't fool a werewolf Iris, a werewolf knows the smell of his pack especially his cubs; yours is older now, more mature, but I still smell the spring in you. That, even polyjuice and glamours can't do."

The two of them became considerably closer throughout the summer, his simple acceptance of her despite her changes had strengthened their bond considerably; and though it was still painful, he helped her to slowly heal from the betrayal.

Narcissa and Draco had stayed for the remainder of the week the James and Lucius were out of town; Draco likewise didn't pry into Iris life and he simply provided her with a friend. Between Draco and Liatris, they remained constants and provided a normalcy that was welcome in the turbulence that Iris was dealing with. To them it was a spat that would work itself out in time, Liatris still had homework and Draco still enjoyed chess and so their time in the library did not change.

Things between Iris and the women however had been rocky; she had come down earlier than everyone in order to cook the morning meal on her own before Lily even came down, and while it might have seemed cold and cruel; it was something that Iris had needed to do for herself. She didn't intend for it to be hurtful, but she knew it was; and somehow a little part of her was glad for it, she squashed that kernel of pleasure but she knew it was there.

For Lily and Narcissa, the first week had been exceedingly difficult for them; they had to rebuild a trust that had existed since the day the girl was born. How do you rebuild trust? It's not a thing that can be mended with some Spell-o-tape or by giving a kid gifts and happy meals. That might have worked if she was still just an eleven year old girl, but Iris had proven to be more than just an eleven year old.

For them, they had to wait until Iris was ready to start trusting them again and when that happened it was a very gradual process, she began cooking with Lily again and just allowed herself to be in the same room. When James, returned Iris kept up pretenses so that her father wouldn't notice anything was amiss and things settled into a quasi-normal state.

But it took the rest of the month until Iris was comfortably sitting next to her mother again and even then she shied away from physical contact. Narcissa had much the same treatment; the woman was around less often now that James and her husband were back, so her association with Iris was considerably more strained then between mother and daughter. They had progressed to the point where they were making small talk in the same room but Iris was nowhere near comfortable sitting within arm's reach of the blonde.

September first rolled around quickly despite everything that transpired, Iris was packed well in advance of the day; something that had always frustrated Harry when he had been with the Weasley's was how they all seemed to hang around and wait until the last minute to put everything together.

So when the day arrived, Iris levitated her trunk down to the entry hall while she carried Hedwig's cage down; setting the items by the front door she cooked up another full English breakfast that had become the standard now that there were two chefs in the kitchen. The family ate leisurely since they were on schedule, and Remus had taken a study day to send his pup off to Hogwarts with the rest of the family.

They piled into the van that Lily kept for trips into Warwick where she shopped for groceries and the like; a simple space enlargement charm on the interior made the interior of the vehicle quite roomy and the family drove down into Warwick properly from their manor. Iris had often enjoyed this ride; the winding roads of England were bordered on both sides by expanses of land.

With fall just on the horizon the grass was still vivid green and there was a slight fog in the air as a result of the overcast weather; but the scenery was just gorgeous. Rolling hills dotted with sheep and horses, and small stands of trees broke up the terrain. When the cloud cover broke radiant beams of sunlight breached through the grey sky and golden columns of light shown down to warm the ground below. Absolutely breathtaking, worthy of a Rembrandt painting and even then the canvas could never hold the simple and extraordinary beauty that was.

The drive terminated in the sleepy town of Warwick, it was a small city that had avoided industrialization; instead it had become something of a comfortable urban spread, small houses lined the streets and in the heart of the city was Warwick Castle; an old stone structure that had held up to the test of time for a millennium.

The reason for the trip into Warwick was simple; within the city was a train that took them into London; from the city directly to Marylbone station in the heart of the city. Once they arrived at the station, it was a simply crossover to the London Underground; purchasing day pass they took the Bakerloo line to Hammersmith and City, and from there they switched again to the east line and arrived at King's Cross station.

King's Cross station was practically dead center of London, people were constantly brushing past on their way to some thing or other; Iris was particularly fond of London. Especially Piccadilly Circus, at night the whole section was alive with people and attractions all around the statue of Eros that sat in the center of the square. It was said that a Londoner couldn't stay there for longer than thirty-seven minutes without running into someone they knew.

Alas, they were on business of their own and a trip to London would have to wait until winter holidays. Moving through the station, James was holding onto her trunk while Remus carried Hedwig's cage; they were getting strange looks because of the owl's screeching but this was London, weirder things had happened then a family walking through the station with an exotic pet.

For instance, the clan of redheads that were standing about on the station that Iris recognized immediately as the Weasley's.

Percy was at the front of the family with his gleaming prefect badge as he looked at his family as if they all had three heads; a set of twins were next, the pranking duo of Fred and George; the familiar face of Ron was standing beside his equally familiar sister Ginny.

Before anyone could say anything, Percy had charged through the barrier with his trolley; "Go on, go on; Fred, you next" Molly Weasley instructed looking at one of the older twins and gestured forward.

"He's not Fred! I am!" said one of them, the other laughed and shook their head, "Honestly, woman! You call yourself our mother…" he said with a sigh and a shake of his head; even though this was an encore performance, Iris still found the whole event quite humerous.

"Sorry, George," the mother said with a light wince as the one who was the one who had berated her laughed.

"I'm only kidding, Mum. I am Fred," he said, running through the barrier and disappearing while Molly opened her mouth to say something before George quickly flitted through as well; she closed her mouth and pinched the bridge of her nose as the Potter's came closer.

"Hello Molly." James said with a pleasant smile causing the woman's head to jerk up at the voice, her face split into a grin as she enveloped the taller man in a hug.

"Well, I'll be James Potter and the family! I haven't seen you all in ages, how have you been?" The woman said warmly, as she took a step back and looked at everyone.

"Good to see you Lily, and you to Remus! And these must be the girl's oh, they're gorgeous!" Molly said as she greeted each of the former Order members fondly before she looked at the Potter girls with a smile.

"You must be Iris, oh don't be nervous dear; I'm sure you'll do fine at Hogwarts! My Ronald is just starting this year too." The matriarch said fondly as she indicated the boy standing awkwardly by his younger siblings.

Iris briefly considered if this Ron was at all like the Ron from Harry's universe, she supposed that it was a possibility but then again considering how much everything had changed; it wouldn't be all that surprising if this Ron was a completely different person.

Molly turned her attention to Liatris and pointed out the last Weasley child, "And you don't be so sad, you'll get to go next year right along with Ginny" Upon hearing their names the second pair of twins smiled and waved politely at the Potter's.

Iris looked over at them and gave them a slight smile, Ginny seemed to whisper something in Ron's ear and the boy blushed fiercely, the tips of his ears matching his hair color and Ginny laughed at the reaction she had provoked.

Iris wondered briefly what Ginny had whispered to her brother before shrugging it off and returning her attention to the petite and slightly plump Molly Weasley. The woman was just as kind and motherly as ever, and while Iris had never bonded with the woman; the woman had been fiercely (if slightly overbearing) protective and loving in regards to Harry.

After moving through the barrier the Weasley's said their goodbyes and began boarding the train, leaving the Potter family to have their goodbyes with Iris.

Iris first gave her younger sister a tight hug that the younger girl returned just as tightly, "Alright sis; send me plenty of letters, do your homework, and keep practicing that Woollongong Shimmy." She muttered into the girl's hair as the girl nodded her head teary eyed that her sister was heading off.

Next was Remus, the werewolf kneeled down as they hugged, "The same goes for you pup; I want to hear everything, and I expect you to get top marks. Don't get into too much trouble." He said gently, Iris laughed quietly at the last and nodded affirmatively; "You got it Moony! Top marks and tons of letters, no promises on the trouble though; I'm the product of the Marauders after all."

Looking to her father, James swept his daughter up into his arms and hugged her fiercely before planting a kiss in her forehead; "My girl's growing up; I'm sure Moony said to stay out of trouble but I don't think it's genetically possible, you've got a legacy to uphold! Don't hex anyone that doesn't deserve it, unless they ask you out; you're much too young for that!" He said with a smile as he set Iris down and hugged her again while she wrapped her arms tightly around the man's neck.

"If it makes you feel better I'll hex every boy who comes within thirty paces, except for Draco… maybe, depending on my mood that day." Iris replied with a laugh at his thoughtful expression, "I've taught you well, young grasshopper." He said as they deteriorated into laughter, when Iris recovered herself she moved onto her mother.

Iris looked up at her mother's teary eyes and hugged the woman tightly around her waist; after everything that had happened, Lily had been anxiously wondering what was going to happen at this moment. It took her a moment but she finally kneeled down and enveloped the raven haired girl and hugged her tightly as a few tears fell into the ebony locks.

"We're not a hundred percent yet mum, but I love you and nothing's going to change that!" Iris whispered quietly into the woman's ear, "I'm going to miss you mum, write me will you?" Lily, just about broke down after her daughter's words but her heart swelled and she looked her daughter in the eye with a smile, "Everyday if you want Doe."

Iris smiled at the nickname, "I don't know about every day but at least three times a week." She said with a warm smile that caused Lily to laugh and nod her head, "Sure thing Iris."

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Express, Unplottable Location, UK<strong>

**September 1, 1991**

**11:00 AM**

With the farewells complete, Iris took her trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other and made her way onboard the crowded train, she was still looking for a compartment when the train began to move, causing her to stumble forward just as a student was coming out of a compartment.

Iris regained her balance and began to apologize as she looked at the student she had bumped into, "I'm sorry, I lost my balance…," she trailed of when she saw the familiar face of Hermione Granger. The brunette witch looked much the same from Harry's first encounter with the young witch the only substantial difference was that instead of the bushy mane of hair that she had sported on their first meeting her hair was pulled back into a plait.

She smiled and shrugged off the apology, looking down she saw that Iris was holding her trunk still and beckoned the girl into her compartment. "Don't worry about it, if you're looking for a compartment I've got this one all to myself."

Nodding, Iris returned the girl's smile and followed in after her; setting her trunk against the far wall under the window and setting Hedwig's cage in the overhead rack, Iris turned to the girl and extended her hand politely. "I'm Iris Potter, pleased to meet you." She introduced herself warmly to the girl.

The brunette took her hand and gave it a firm but gentle shake, "I'm Hermione Granger, I'm sorry but have we met before?" She asked; curiosity tingeing her voice as she released Iris' hand and settled into the seat by the window across from the raven haired girl.

'You have no idea' Iris thought to herself but she shook her head at the girl, "No, I don't think so; I'm pretty good with faces." Hermione just shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly at the response but smiled warmly, "So Iris, what do you know about Hogwarts?"

Typical Hermione, ever curious, always looking to learn; it was an endearing quality and Iris found that even though she had never met the girl before today in this universe, she had missed the bushy haired girl.

With a slightly mischievous smile Iris leaned in conspiratorially which caused Hermione to lean in eagerly, "Hogwarts is incredibly old and quite large…" Iris said with a small laugh as Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, "…but seriously, I've read 'Hogwarts: A History' cover to cover at least a dozen times." The ebony haired girl smiled widely as Hermione's eyes opened wide.

"So have I! I couldn't believe I was a witch when I found out; I've been trying to learn everything." Hermione said excitedly, happy to have found a kindred spirit which pleased Iris; Harry had learned the pleasure of learning and reading as an adult but Iris had learned it much sooner, and while it was probably because of Harry's upbringing with the Dursley's that he hadn't gotten into the habit much earlier in life.

Before the pair could continue there was a rap on the glass door of the compartment and the faces of Draco and Daphne popped into the compartment with smiles as they saw Iris. Waving them in, she looked over at Hermione and smiled, "Hermione, these are my friends Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass. Guys, this is Hermione Granger; and Draco, be nice."

Iris said the last bit with a tone of warning as he looked prepared to make a snarky remark, but he subsided sheepishly and nodded as they entered the compartment. Draco sat beside Iris while Daphne sat beside Hermione and they shook hands.

"Eh Daphne, guessed who else read 'Hogwarts: A History' all the way through." Iris said as she pointed her chin at Hermione, the honey blonde heiress turned towards the brunette with a giddy smile and the two girls launched into conversation about the history of their esteemed institution of learning.

"I saw the teary farewell, you and your mum make nice?" Draco asked quietly beside Iris, surprisingly there was an absence of the trademark Malfoy smirk here and he looked quite serious. Iris nodded her head, "I couldn't stay mad at her forever, we're still not perfect but she's the only mum I've got you know." She replied softly as she leaned her head against the boy's shoulder.

"I know Iris, mum requested that you write her about your time at Hogwarts; she says wants to be close to her goddaughter again." Iris nodded her head in acknowledgement to the boys' words; "I will Draco, I want to be close to her too."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence while Daphne and Hermione kept the compartment abuzz with light conversation, Iris and Draco commenting every now and again when the topic of conversation moved. Draco was quite avid when the discussion switched to quidditch; Hermione had never flown on a broom before and she was nervous about it.

"I wouldn't worry about it 'Mione, me and Iris here are the best flyers in first year." Draco said; the use of the nickname was surprising but Iris was internally quite pleased; there was hope for the blonde boy yet. As long as she kept him on a tight rope there might be one less pureblood supremacist.

Hermione looked at her two new friends curiously, Iris looking innocent while Draco openly smirking; Daphne chuckled and lightly and confirmed it. "He's not being all hot air, he's pretty decent but Iris there was born to be on a broomstick." The hazel eyed girl said with a fond smile for her friend.

Iris flushed a bit at the praise while Draco mock-sulked, "I'm more then pretty decent…" he grumbled loudly to a chorus of laughs from the girls while he smiled, he was still a bit of a peacock it seemed but he was a likable peacock now.

When the snack cart rolled by the children made some purchases with Draco explaining all the sweets to Hermione while Daphne switched seats, she laid out on the bench and put her head on Iris's lap while the two caught up about Daphne's summer.

The young witch had spent the majority of the summer in her family's villa in France and was regaling Iris with stories of Paris and the French countryside. She went into detail over the newest French fashion trends and Iris followed along easily, Harry may have been a stranger to the female side of fashion but the Iris of this universe wasn't and she could hold her own in this conversation.

"You know, it isn't polite to talk in a language that only you two understand." Draco said from the opposite side of the compartment, causing Iris to look at the boy with a blank expression in confusion. Daphne beat her to the punch, "It isn't our fault that you didn't pay attention when we were learning French, Draco."

Iris blinked as realization dawned on her and she looked at the honey blonde girl, "Etions-nous vraiment parler en français?" she asked Daphne who looked at her and nodded at her with a smile. "Vous ne remarquerez jamais quand on passe parce que tu es si bonavec elle."

"I guess so, I really don't notice." Iris responded as she looked over at Draco and shrugged with an apologetic look, "Sorry Drake can't help it."

The boy rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he turned back to Hermione, "See what I get for being such a good friend." The brunette girl tittered for a moment as she nodded before looking at the other girls, "Why do you speak French anyway? Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful language but why learn it?"

Iris flushed slightly at the question but Daphne carried it on without a pause, "Since I'm a pureblood and Iris is the inheritor to the Potter estate, we might be married into other pureblood families. There aren't very many eligible choices left in Wizarding Britain alone to ensure purebloods stay purebloods; so we are expected to know French and perhaps even German to ensure the chance of marrying into other European pureblood families."

Hermione looked taken aback for a moment as she weighed those words, she wasn't from the magical world so she didn't know the intricacies or politics of blood in the wizarding community over much but what she learned was somewhat disturbing, "So essentially, you might be forced to wed in order to keep pureblood lines... but what's the point of it?"

Draco all but bristled at the words but Iris cut in smoothly, "Mainly to preserve the old traditions and strength of magic, while each wizard's magical core is different and their power levels differ the more magic in the line the stronger the offspring are likely to be. The Malfoy's for instance have been a pureblood family for as long as their lineage has been tracked, and they are known for producing powerful magic children. The Greengrass line is likewise known for producing magically potent children and they have been contributed some of the best Mediwizards and witches that Britain has seen."

Draco nodded at the information, "No offense Hermione, while Muggleborn wizards and witches have been powerful in the past; like Iris' mum, most aren't very powerful and because Muggleborns come from the Muggle world they have different beliefs then the old families. Muggles celebrate Christmas and Halloween; those holidays have become prevalent throughout the wizarding world as a result and people are slowly forgetting about Yuletide and Samhain. Those are our roots and they have fallen by the wayside, so pureblood families try to protect them by marrying into lines that still follow the old ways."

Hermione mulled that information over as thee compartment lapsed into a companionable silence for a while, each of the children occupying themselves with their own thoughts until Hermione cut in, "We're getting close to Hogwarts; we should change into our uniform."

Everyone nodded as they opened their trunks to get out the proper clothes, exiting the cabin, they saw the line for the bathroom was already fairly long so Draco nodded his head towards the rear of the train. "We can use the bathrooms in the dining car; none of the other students use it because the teachers usually are in there." The blond boy said as he led the quartet to the rear of the train and into a nicely decorated and brightly lit car.

As soon as they entered, Iris felt her wand pulse against her forearm in its holster causing her to look up at the same time as a pair of obsidian eyes looked over the edge of a large book to meet her gaze. Draco moved forward and addressed someone sitting in a booth for a moment before he looked at the girls and nodded his head.

Crossing the length of the car, Iris saw the familiar faces of the teachers from Harry's universe although some of them had different facial features as different genes seemed to have taken hold, and she wondered what kind of repercussions that would have.

As they passed the table that Draco had stopped at Iris' eyes fell upon Severus Snape, the man who had apparently given them permission to change in the bathrooms. She wondered if he was still the same bitter man that Harry had known, and as she looked upon the man she was hit by two things; the first was that his hair was not at all greasy, in fact it looked rather silky as it fell loosely to his shoulders.

Secondly, those hard eyes that seemed to be permanently fixed into a glare softened as he gazed at Iris; and she wondered if at that moment the man was seeing Lily's daughter and not James'.

Whatever the case, the man's expression hardened quickly and he gave her a small nod before he turned away to read whatever it was that he had been before the children had entered. Continuing along the car, the quartet reached the bathroom and Iris elected to change last while she stood beside the bench that held her new acquaintance.

"Good to see you again, Professor Riddle." Iris said softly to the man as she felt the same bittersweet and metallic flavor brush across her senses; it was a truly unique combination that she couldn't identify.

"A pleasure, Miss Potter; do you want to tell me perchance why you're in the _teacher's_ dining car?" He asked in a thoroughly bored voice without looking up from his book, his jet black eyes skimming the page unfalteringly.

"We needed to change into uniform, the student's washroom had long line; this was the smarter choice." Iris replied, matching the same disinterested tone that the man was using. For a moment she thought she saw the corner of his mouth lift into a bare smile but it was gone before she could be certain.

"I suppose it was at that, I trust you will continue to make the smarter choices while you are here at Hogwarts. Keep yourself out of trouble, yes?" The last bit of the statement was rhetoric but Iris nodded her head anyway.

"I try sir, but trouble has a way of finding me; especially when I don't go looking for it." Iris said as she contemplated Harry's experience in fourth year with the Triwizard Tournament, that was supposed to be a trouble free year and look at how much good that did.

The man chuckled for a moment, the sound coming from deep in his chest and it sounded quite nice; Iris actually frowned for a moment when it was over before she schooled her face into a mask of neutrality.

Hermione came out of the washroom finally clothed in her uniform which left Iris as the last to change. "Guess I'll be seeing you shortly Professor." The girl said as she stepped away from the booth and watched him give a small nod.

Changing quickly, Iris looked herself in the mirror and sighed at the drab uniform; the white blouse with its black tie was hidden under the sleeveless charcoal jumper, black stockings terminated under a grey knee length skirt and shiny black flats completed the look. The only personal touches were the charm bracelet on her left wrist and the fleur-de-lis necklace she wore that hung out over the jumper.

"I'm definitely going to have to break a few rules when it comes to dress code, I guess Dad was right; it's genetically impossible for a Potter to not get into trouble." Iris muttered to herself as she slipped on the black school robes, the Hogwarts emblem stitched over the breast but she knew it, along with the jumper and tie would change the moment she was sorted.

She exited the washroom to see her friends had departed back to the compartment, leaving her alone in the dining cart. Giving Professor Riddle one last salutary nod, she made her way back up the length of the train and into her compartment to wait out the rest of the journey.

"We should arrive at the station in fifteen minutes." Draco stated as Iris sat down beside Hermione, nodding her head the raven haired girl leaned back into the seat and looked over at Daphne, "Ces uniformes n'ont pas de style."

The blonde girl laughed at that statement as she nodded in agreement, "You're telling me, the only savings grace is they're comfortable." Which was true, even Iris couldn't argue that point.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**September 1, 1991**

**6:00 PM**

The crimson Hogwarts Express pulled into the station and before long, the platform was filled with students moving about; greetings friends they had missed on the train and sorting themselves into groups to ride the carriages to the school. Besides being the youngest there, many of the first years were instantly noticeable by how they just milled about the platform looking for direction.

For Iris, this wasn't much of a problem as she pushed through the crowd over to the hulking goliath that was Hagrid, the half-giant was bellowing over the crowd, "Firs' years, o'er here! This way, come on now!"

Despite the easily recognizable man, Iris knew that she couldn't come right out and greet the man; they had never interacted before but her dilemma was solved in short order. Hermione bounded up to the imposing man with an affectionate smile, "Hello Hagrid"

The heavily bearded man looked down at Hermione with a smile, his warm and expressive black eyes twinkling merrily; "'Ello the Hermione, been awhile it has; you excited to be heading o'er to the castle then!" He asked her while Daphne, Draco, and Iris moved in closer.

Draco's face had a distinct sour scowl as he looked up at the half-giant and Iris figured the boy would need more training on how not to be a bigoted jerk, but she was going to have to untrain the years of prejudice his father had instilled in the boy. But she was equal to the challenge; this Draco seemed like someone worth investing in.

Daphne on the other hand stared at the half-giant with an expression between curiosity and amusement; it would be fair to say that she was amused by her new Muggleborn friend greeting the half-giant; barely as tall as the man's knee, Hermione was. The curiosity was anyone's guess, but perhaps it had to do with how Hermione knew the man in the first place.

Hermione nodded in response to Hagrid, her brown plait of hair bouncing against her back from the movement and she waved her friends over. "Guys, this is Hagrid; he's the Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. Hagrid these are my friends, Iris Potter, Daphne Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy."

Daphne and Iris waved politely while Draco scowled in distaste, Daphne elbowed the boy in the ribs; eliciting a surprised 'oomph' from the boy before he nodded at the half-giant in greeting. To Hagrid's credit he just smiled jovially at the three children though he was a bit surprised to see a Malfoy among the girl's friends.

"Howdy there, well any friends o' Hermione here are friends o' mine." Hagrid said sincerely as he looked over at the group of assembled first years, seemingly counting them off before he nodded. "Alrigh' then, firs' years we'll be going to the castle over the lake; no more than four to a boat, ya' hear. And keep your hands in the boat at all times, ther' be a giant squid in the lake!"

Leading the group down to the lake's edge, Hagrid began assisting students into the boats; the quartet piled into a boat on their own and waited while everyone else tried to find places. Iris took the opportunity to look over the group of first years and compared it to the memory of Harry's class.

The majority of the student's looked the same; Ron for instance was just like in Harry's memories although his freckles might have been arranged differently. Neville was still a bit chubby, but his personality was completely different from the one that Harry was familiar with. And so on it went, Iris compared faces to those she had known most closely from the DA; and was relieved to find that most were the same by appearance.

There were some new faces, and some missing faces; either some students hadn't been born in this universe or had been born under different genders like in Harry's particular case. But there was around 150 students in the boats, so whatever student that this universe had not duplicated had seemingly been replaced with another child.

Whatever the case, the boats rounded the bend in the lake and the students got their first look of Hogwarts; the massive stone castle standing just as Harry remembered, spires jutting into the sky, towers and ramparts fixed resolutely against all odds. Lights illuminated the night, the mirror like sheen of the lake's water reflecting the hard edifice that many students had and would continue to call home.

For Iris, it was a surreal experience; returning to the castle, so many memories of this place existed in her mind and so many new ones were now to be made. And honestly, she was looking forward to it; she had the chance to redefine history, and she was going to use it.

The boats pulled into the castle's dock and the students began disembarking, gathering onto the stone jetty and looking around confused at what was to happen next. Iris pushed through the group gently, her new inner circle of friends following behind her as the students gossiped amongst themselves.

Iris looked around as the increasingly familiar pulse of her wand returned, causing the young girl to peer into the shadows at the top of the stairs, amid those shadows she could make out the darker silhouette of Professor Riddle; the man was looking over the group of students waiting for the last of them to come off the boats.

He glided out of his hiding spot and began to speak, "Welcome to Hogwarts, in a few moments you will join your classmates; before you take your seats you must first be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin; while you are here, your house will your team,"

"A little competition exists here at Hogwarts; your triumphs will earn you points, rule breaking will lose you points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup. The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily, I will return to collect you when we are ready for you." Riddle finished his quick speech as he looked over the crowd of first years, when his gaze fell onto Iris at the front of the group; he gave her a small smirk and a barely perceptible nod before he walked out of the room.

As he left, the students began talking in earnest wondering what houses they were going to be sorted into; which was a good question in Iris' case. In this universe as in Harry's, Draco would be most definitely sorted into Slytherin; Hermione had been a fifty-fifty toss-up between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor; Daphne had been a Slytherin and while the odds were she could be Ravenclaw, Iris doubted it.

Gryffindor had been Harry's home, but after all the turn coats that had lived there with him Iris was unsure if she wanted to spend her time with them; Ravenclaw was of interest, there she could exercise her skills a bit further and not get any cross looks if she was ahead of the curve… because all Ravenclaws were; Slytherin was an interesting choice, but with the personalities that Slytherin attracted homicide would likely ensue.

Iris' contemplation was cut short as she heard the voice of Neville cut through the crowd, "Hey Potter, you sure you want to mixing with that sort! You don't want to go making friends with the wrong crowd you know?"

'Wow, really; this is practically the same spiel that Malfoy used first year. And how did I get dragged into it this time?' Iris thought to herself as she heard rather than saw the crowd part behind her to let this universe Boy-Who-Lived through. Murmurs of "Neville Longbottom?" were being issued through the crowd.

Draco, Daphne and Hermione turned to look at Neville while Iris patiently ignored the boy, "What do mean by the wrong crowd?" Draco asked dangerously while the blonde and brunette girl nodded their heads emphatically.

"What do you think I mean, _Malfoy_!" Neville spat the family name like it was curse, "You're family ain't nothing but Deatheaters!" the portly boy continued, it seemed that besides being an arrogant ponce, this Neville was confident enough in himself to toe the line with Draco.

He looked Daphne and Hermione over and shrugged, "I wouldn't recommend the two of you hang around him too much either; especially you," he pointed at Hermione, "Mudbloods have a tendency to get hurt when they're around Death Eaters." He finished as Hermione was taken aback by the vindictive word.

Daphne was now physically restraining Draco, preventing the blonde haired boy from strangling Longbottom with his bare hands. Iris continued to pointedly ignore the scene going on behind her back; "So how about it Potter? I know your parents fought for the Light in the war; you're dad's an Auror Captain; mine is the Deputy Head of the DMLE. Could be useful to get in my good graces, right?"

'This boy really needs to learn to quit while he's ahead' Iris thought to herself as she stared at the door that Riddle had gone through, patiently awaiting for his arrival any second now.

"Oye, I'm talking to you Potter!" A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to bruise as she was forcibly whipped around.

Standing behind Neville was Seamus, and Dean; the two of them looking conflicted over supporting the boy or being upset that he had just grabbed Iris like that.

Iris didn't even hesitate as she was turned, she snapped her head down and forward as the crown of her forehead slammed into the boy's nose; a wet pop and cracking sound filled the air.

Broken nose, before the sorting ceremony had even started; damn, she couldn't remember which of her parents had called that bet.

Neville reeled backwards from the injury and looked horrorstruck at having his nose broken, blood already funneling down his nose from the impact. His face quickly became one of rage as he raised his arm and curled his hand into a fist to strike the girl, but Iris beat him to it.

She delivered a shin to his groin that took the air out of the boy as he crumpled onto the floor wheezing from painful blow. "I think I'll stick to my friends, thank you very much!" Iris replied flatly with a scowl before she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Turning, she saw Professor Riddle standing behind her with a smirk on his face, "Normally, fighting would be grounds for suspension; but considering how you're not students yet, I think we'll call this a detention Miss Potter."

Pulling out his wand, Riddle jabbed it at Neville and everyone could see the boy's nose right itself as the magic healed it; a second jab and the blood on the boy's face and clothing was vanished. "I suggest that after the sorting and feast, you see Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary Mr. Longbottom. Miss Potter, I'll expect you in my office Monday night at seven; do bring a quill."

Riddle said the last as he turned from Neville and looked at Iris with a faintly pleased smirk before he schooled his expression. "Alright, they're ready for you now; follow me!"

Iris took off on Riddle's heels with her trio of friends closely following, there was some scuffling from behind them as Seamus and Dean lifted the chubby 'Savior' and guided him along.

"You should have been holding her back Daphne, I would have choked the ponce; Iris broke his bloody nose!" Draco crowed delightfully as the group moved through the dungeons to the entry hall. Daphne and Hermione giggled a bit while Iris flushed slightly.

"It was pretty brilliant though, the kick to the nads was priceless!" Daphne got in before she started laughing so hard, that Draco had to keep her upright; even Hermione was laughing over the event, though she sobered quickly. "But she got a detention, before classes even got started."

Iris looked over her shoulder to see Neville walking duck-footed gingerly and she smiled wickedly, "It was worth it Hermione, it was worth it." She said as she looked at her friends, her ebony locks cascading down her back and framing her face. For just a moment, they saw a much darker and regal girl, but just for a moment as she turned back to keep step behind Riddle.

At the threshold to the Great Hall, there was a noticeable din coming through the large wood doors and Riddle turned to face the students. "Alright, two lines, single file. Now!" the Deputy Headmaster said in a commanding voice that quickly had them formed into neat columns, pushing open the doors; the aristocratic man led the group of first years over the threshold.

The room was massive with four long tables that ran nearly the length of the room; above each table were streamers and tapestries. From right to the left colors ran from gold and scarlet, to blue and bronze, to yellow and black, and finally in silver and green.

At the end of the room on a raised platform, was the Head Table; where the staff sat and took their meals. In the center of the table was a large golden throne-like chair upon which sat the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. At the man's left side was a second, smaller throne-like chair in silver that was empty, obviously reserved for Riddle.

"It's not really the sky; it's just bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History.'" Iris heard Hermione say to a student behind her, but her gaze was fixed on the ragged looking hat on the stool with the tear at its brim.

Iris knew what the sorting hat was, a sentient artifact that was one of the only remaining remnants of the school's founders. She also knew of its propensity to sing its cryptic messages about the outside world, she was anxious to see if perhaps her secret would be out before she wanted it to be.

As the line of first years came to a stop, the tear at the brim opened and the Hat began its song:

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
>But don't judge on what you see,<br>I'll eat myself if you can find  
>A smarter hat than me.<em>

You can keep your bowlers black,  
>Your top hats sleek and tall,<br>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
>And I can cap them all.<p>

There's nothing hidden in your head  
>The Sorting Hat can't see,<br>So try me on and I will tell you  
>Where you ought to be.<p>

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
>Where dwell the brave at heart,<br>Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
>Set Gryffindors apart;<p>

You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
>Where they are just and loyal,<br>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
>And unafraid of toil;<p>

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
>if you've a ready mind,<br>Where those of wit and learning,  
>Will always find their kind;<p>

Or perhaps in Slytherin  
>You'll make your real friends,<br>Those cunning folks use any means  
>To achieve their ends.<p>

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
>And don't get in a flap!<br>You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
>For I'm a Thinking Cap!<p>

As the song came to an end, the Hall burst into applause and Iris sighed out the breath she was holding; it was the same song from Harry's time but it made no mention of her and for that she was relieved.

She heard Ron's voice in the crowd, "So all we have to do is try on a hat!" Turning to look at the boy she gave him a nod, "Why, what did you think we were going to do?" she asked already knowing the answer but she couldn't help herself. "Fred was going on about wrestling a troll. I'll kill him…" The redhead trailed off as Iris laughed quietly behind her hand.

"Before we begin the Sorting, the Headmaster… has some things he wants to address." Riddle said a slight pause in the middle of his sentence and he winced at having to say the words though Iris doubted anyone else would have noticed.

Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table, smiling pleasantly at the gathered students his blue eyes twinkling merrily as all eyes turned to the silver haired and bearded wizard in his elaborate regalia. "Thank you Tom," The Headmaster said softly, though the DADA instructor seemed to bristle at the name when used by the old man.

"I have a few start of term notices, I wish to announce. First years, please note, that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

Dumbledore settled back into his seat as the hall was filled with a quiet buzz as students talked over the strange announcements. "When I call your name, you will come forth and I will place the sorting hat on your head." Riddle intoned as he pulled a scroll from inside his sleeve and he began to go through the list of names in alphabetical order.

Hannah Abbot, Hufflepuff; Susan Bones, Hufflepuff; Terry Boot, Ravenclaw; Mandy Brocklehurst, Ravenclaw; Lavender Brown, Gryffindor; Milicent Bulstrode, Slytherin. And the name's continued, the ones that Iris recognized from Harry's memories went much the same way as they had before; but she couldn't be certain with every student; there were a lot of them and she hadn't known them all.

When Hermione was called she took a deep breath, and Iris smiled at her reassuringly while the brunette settled onto the stool and Riddle placed the hat on her head. Again, it took a few minutes for the hat to deliberate with Hermione and Iris knew it was because the two of them were conversing but as expected she went to, "Gryffindor!"

To each name sorted came a cheer from each house, and eventually the names came up that Iris was actually interested in. First was Daphne, the girl strode forward confidently and took a seat on the stool as she crossed her legs with class befitting an heiress. The hat deliberated for a moment before it announced, "Slytherin!" Iris applauded and cheered for her friend as the girl smiled at her happily and wondered over to her new house.

Neville ascended up to the stool before long and Iris smirked to herself as Riddle slipped the hat down a bit more forcefully than necessary, causing the brim to hit the boy's recently repaired nose. The boy gave a sharp hiss of pain before the hat eventually made the call on, "Gryffindor!"

When Draco was called, much like Daphne he ascended the steps coolly confident as he took the stage and made sitting on the stool look like he was claiming a throne. Iris smirked at the boy as he met her gaze and she mouthed the work 'peacock.' The boy gave her a mock glare as Riddle set the sorting hat down, the artifact barely brushed the boy's hair before it announced, "Slytherin!"

After watching Draco descend the stage and take his place, Iris just tuned out everyone else as they were being sorted as she returned to her earlier deliberations. Slytherin was out just based on the personalities there, Draco was salvageable with Daphne's help but there was no way she would be able to convince the entire serpent's den to give creatures and Muggleborns a fair shake.

Hufflepuff was an option, if she went there then she knew she wouldn't have to deal with a bunch of kids who were likely to jump ship the second something foul cropped up; but she knew that Uncle Sirius and her dad would never let her hear the end of it if she became a Puff.

Ravenclaw, now there was something, the best and brightest right at her fingertips; she was already loaded with Harry's information, there was no way she couldn't do well in her classes send she would repeating them all up until seventh year anyway. But with Neville being the Boy-Who-Lived and all, she would need to keep his fat arse out of the frying pan long enough for him to toe the line with Grindewald or until she found a way to deal with him being a horcrux.

So that only left one option really.

Riddle's eyes settled on her and a small smiled spread across his lips, she blinked for a moment as she saw how out of place it looked on his face; she was far more used to that knowing smirk he always had.

"Potter, Iris" he called out and she stepped forward from her place at the front of the pack of remaining students; she took the steps with a silent confidence and perched on the edge of the stool as Riddle lowered the hat onto her head.

At first nothing happened, and she wondered why the hat wasn't speaking to her and then she felt the gentle knocking against her Occlumency shields. With a self-conscious smile, she pulled them down and the familiar voice of the Sorting Hat was in her head. "Well, I suppose there really is a first for everything isn't there Miss Potter? You are quite the bundle of surprises, it seems and you've really thought out this decision haven't you?"

Iris nodded her head barely, 'I wish there was another way; most people never get the chance to relive their lives and I was honestly hoping to do things differently this time around… but more than what I want rests on this, or rather everything that I want rests on this.' Iris presented the thoughts in her mind for the Sorting Hat to pick up.

"Indeed dear girl, and from what I've seen of Longbottom's mind this world is going to need a proper hero; and unfortunately in this close minded society the only places heroes come from are…GRYFFINDOR!" The hat bellowed out the house of lions as Iris rose and set the hat back on the stool, she gave Riddle a wry grin and he rolled his eyes at the girl as she moved down to her table.

She took a seat beside the grinning Hermione, "I'm glad you're in Gryffindor Iris, I was started to worry that you'd be in Slytherin and I be alone over here." The girl said she looked towards the house of serpents, following her gaze Iris spotted Draco and Daphne smiles and thumbs up. Smiling, Iris waved at them just as Gryffindor went up in cheers again.

Looking at the stool, Iris saw Ron stepping down from the dais looking relieved as he joined the table across from Hermione and Iris to sit beside his older brother, Percy, who gave the boy a welcoming pat on the back.

Ron looked at the two girls and smiled at them nervously, "I know my mum introduced me on the platform, but I'm Ron Weasley; pleased to meet you." The redheaded boy said with an honest smile as he extended his hand over the table.

It was a gamble, the other Ron in Harry's dimension had proven to be an insufferable prat when his jealousy flared at the lest opportune times, but he had come through in the end and Iris figured that at the very least she owed the boy a chance to live up to his counterpart's final image.

Reaching across the table, Iris took his hand in hers and gave him a firm handshake as she introduced herself; Hermione followed her example and did the same. Ron looked at Iris for a moment before blurting, "You know for a girl, you fight pretty well; that was bloody awesome what you did Neville! The git had it coming, soon as he laid hands on you!"

Iris blinked at the boy in surprise; she wondered if she should be insulted by the boy's lack of tact or flattered by his praise. Eventually, Hermione's snort of laughter settled it for her and the raven haired girl smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, "My dad and my godfather are Aurors, I'm the eldest daughter so they gave me a few tips on how to handle boys who couldn't keep their hands to themselves."

It was half true at least, Sirius and James had taught both Iris and Liatris that the three most vulnerable points on the human body was the eyes, throat, and groin; and they had been coached on how to attack all three. Harry had learned that in war, you fight to win; and most wizards didn't know squat about how to handle a physical attack.

Ron paled slightly at the information, "Remind me not to mess with you." Hermione giggled at that before giving Ron a pointed look, "Is that because her dad's an Auror or because she can kick butt on her own?" Ron looked decidedly nervous at the question so Percy who had one ear on the conversation leaned over and said, "Both, but considering who our mother is; I'd say Iris there would make whatever her dad does look like a slap on the wrist.

Ron nodded emphatically at the response which seemed to suit Hermione just as well since she leaned back and looked at Iris and shrugged, "Looks like a few wizards still have common sense, there may be hope for the wizarding world yet." Iris laughed at that but in her mind was she shaking her head, if only the girl knew.

Dinner went by quickly, and it felt… normal; when Harry had gone through the whole process, everyone had been caught up in the Boy-Who-Lived and not in Harry Potter, but as Iris; she was just another witch from good stock.

She had at least one more friend in her inner circle then Harry had; and considering the knowledge of how some of the people around her could turn out meant that the potential for friends was significantly larger.

And when next year rolled around there would be Ginny, Luna, as well as Pol and Liatris; all people she could come to rely on. Harry had been insulated by his fame with few people getting to know the person behind the tabloids; Iris wouldn't have to worry about celebrity status, she could just be herself.

Once the dessert was gone, Percy and his female counterpart; a brown eyed brunette with shoulder length hair by the name of Vanessa, gathered the first year students and led them up the grand staircase and all the way up to the seventh floor entrance of Gryffindor tower.

"And please remember the password to the tower, if we change it; there will be a notice on the bulletin board in the common room, so check on it periodically." Percy was explaining as he gave the prerequisite speech on the moving staircase, the portrait system and the introduction to the Fat Lady.

Turning to the Fat Lady he gave the password, "Caput Draconis" and the portrait swung open to grant the group admittance; the Gryffindors piled in through the circular entryway and into the comfortable and warmly decorated common room.

"Alright then, boys with me; I'll show you up to your dormitory. Ladies, with Vanessa please." Percy said as they entered the common room and split the group into halves as he led the boys up one set of stairs and Vanessa took the girls up the other. "The way things work in Gryffindor tower is the higher your year, the higher you climb; for you first years, this will be your dormitory."

Vanessa said simply as she opened the door on the first landing and escorted the newly sorted Gryffindors, and in Iris' case resorted Gryffindor into the room. The room was basically a mirror image of the boy's dorm that Harry had lived in; a decent sized four poster head with privacy curtains was placed for each student a respectable distance away from the next bed with a night table placed next to it. A large bathroom was attached to the room through a door in the corner, if it was like the boy's dorm in that respect as well then it would be large enough for all of the dorm's occupants to use it simultaneously and still not get in each other's way.

As the other girls were taking in the room still, Iris stepped forward and claimed her trunk that was sitting in the middle of the room; crossing the expanse to the bed at the furthest end of the room for the door she placed the trunk at the foot of the four poster and looked over at her new roommates.

It seemed that Iris' lead set the other girls into motion as they all claimed their own beds, though Lavender set Iris a look that easily translated to, 'I wanted that bed.' To which the girl tossed her head flippantly and fixed the other with a challenging stare, needless to say Lavender backed down.

Vanessa watched the entire silent exchange from the doorway and gave Iris an approving nod before bidding good night to the room's occupants. Stepping behind her curtained bed, Iris used the privacy of the corner she had claimed for herself to change into her evening chemise before slipping into bed.

Bidding Hermione good night, the room was filled with a small chorus of the niceties before it lapsed into silence. Iris drew her curtains closed and silently cast a silencing charm on the curtains to keep out any snores, seven years living with Ron as Harry had given the girl particular insight on how to keep her sleep undisturbed. A simple alarm ward later, and Iris was curling into the comfortable bed and quickly fast asleep.

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><p><strong>AN: **Wow, this chapter hurt to write; like I said this is my first fanfiction so I'm really trying to give it my all, but after the whole scene with Lily and Iris, I really questioned my resolve on this. On the other hand that scene with Neville before the sorting; so absolutely worth it.

In regards to any of my readers who are French speakers, I'm using Google Translate for it; so if it's poorly translated please don't hate me. I only speak English and I'm learning Spanish at the moment.

As always read and review if you enjoyed my writing; trolls need not concern themselves. Constructive criticism is always appreciated in a respectful manner; and any again any questions that you post in the review that aren't potential spoilers will get answered.

**Next Chapter: **_Start of classes, fun flying, and sub-plot character building_


	5. Chapter IV

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, HG/OC, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG, OC/GW

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed, your feedback pushes me ever onward to continuing this story. To those of you who were wondering, this is a long term story; I will be taking it from first to at least seventh year if not beyond that. As such, the romance and pairing won't take precedence for some time, sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting some love off the bat.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter IV**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**September 2, 1991**

Sunday passed uneventfully for Iris and her small circle of friends, for them it was an opportunity to explore the school which was mildly amusing considering that with Harry's memories in her head the whole school was a very familiar place.

Still it was an opportunity to get reacquainted with the castle; the castle was remarkably similar to how it had been in the opposite universe save for the small differences in decoration; tapestries were different or in different locations, suits of armor had been moved to different locations, and paintings and there inhabitants were likewise in different places and sometimes held invariably different faces.

Still, the complex was the same; hidden passages still terminated in familiar places and classrooms were in the same place. Hermione found the whole place riveting, Draco and Daphne found the girl amusing and peppered her with playful jibes but the girl recognized them for being the good natured sarcasm that it was and didn't take offense, she even indulged in a little sniping of her own when she answered questions that Draco had.

Iris enjoyed this Hermione even more then Harry had his, this girl was still the bushy-haired brunette put it seemed she had much greater self-esteem, and what Harry had initially taken as a know-it-all tone, Iris recognized as being simply matter-of-fact and once that distinction was made it was like walking with you own pocket encyclopedia.

Meals in the Great Hall had proven to be a singularly strange affair for many of the Hogwarts students because of the massive inter-house rivalry that existed between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the presence of Daphne and Draco at the end of the table that Iris and Hermione had carved out for themselves had sparked much discourse amongst the student body.

Even some of the professors had taken to the gossip and found it particularly surprising, Professor McGonagall for instance had looked upon the scene with a mixture of pride and alarm; pride that two of her newest students had seemingly bridged the gap that had been carved between the Houses for as long as she could remember.

Alarm that Draco Malfoy was amicably talking to Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn if an exceptionally bright and talented one; it was entirely out of character for a pureblood heir to put aside the notion of blood-purity, especially when you were the child of Lucius Malfoy.

On the other hand, he had seemingly befriended Iris Potter; a child was particularly interested in. The girl's parents had been talented students in their day and even more impressive in the field when they had fought beside the Order of the Phoenix.

Iris' mother was a Muggleborn and James had fallen in love with the woman, a child of both worlds perhaps it only made sense that she could cut through the prejudice; Lily had after all always seen the good in people perhaps especially when they themselves could not.

But not everyone had taken the events in stride, when Ron had seen the Slytherins at the table he had exploded in his usual tactless self, "Blimey Iris! What are you doing with the snakes!" Prudence was not in the boy's nature, he was still as impulsive and calculating as ever; which was to say very much so and not at all respectively.

Draco had looked on the verge of biting the young Weasley's head off his shoulder but Hermione had coolly replied, "According to the school rules; students must sit at their respective table only during ceremonious occasions. Any other time, students can choose to sit wherever they like; it is even encouraged to sit with other Houses."

Ron had stared agape at the girl as though she had grown a second head, Percy had briefly looked through the code of conduct but he nodded his confirmation. "She's right, and as long as they don't cause trouble I see no reason to send them off. And do close your mouth Ron, it's unbecoming."

Ron had closed his mouth with a click and flushed scarlet around the neck and ears as he moved past and took a seat beside Seamus, he glanced up every now and again towards Draco but the boy had put on that insufferable smirk of his and stared back challengingly. Iris sighed at the display while Daphne giggled and rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

Iris had taken the opportunity to scan the head table, from what Harry's memories indicated then Quirrel was the vessel the Grindewald would be possessing; but she couldn't come out and just declare the man to be possessed. Besides the fact that she would be revealing knowledge that she couldn't possibly know, the possibility existed that Quirrel was not the vessel.

It might be another professor or even a student that the Dark Lord was hitching a ride on; unfortunately she had no way of knowing who that person was. The only one with a tie to Grindewald was Neville and after the sorting incident, it was unlikely that he was going to tell Iris when his scar twanged from looking at someone.

She was going to have to pay close attention to the boy, thankfully being in Gryffindor meant that up until fifth year at the least she was going to be able to keep tabs on the boy; once O.W.L.'s came it would be anyone's guess how events would unfold.

As she looked over the professors, Iris locked onto the Potions Master; the man was still clothed in his usual black ensemble though he looked healthier in this universe, well he was less pale at least and his hair was properly cared for. So while he still looked imposing, he had the semblance of at least being approachable even if it was a last resort.

It seemed that Snape had the feeling that he was being watched since he turned away from the conversation he was having with Professor Sinistra and met Iris' gaze. His eyes were still the same beady black but there was something stirring in the back of those eyes, Iris could not discern what was going on in the man's mind by looking at him and she was not about to invade his mind for that information.

Whatever he felt be it hatred or fondness, indifference or contempt; Harry had learned of the man's deep and unrequited love for Lily. Snape had been a hero of the war, his service as a spy and double agent had earned him much enmity but it never dissuaded him; the man had been one of the bravest men Harry had ever known. If that was the case, Iris at least owed the man the courtesy of being civil and perhaps a bit more diligence in his class.

Holding his gaze, Iris gave the man a warm smile and a nod in greeting; Snape looked confused for a minute while his lip twitched for a second into the facsimile of a smile though the expression looked foreign on his face and was quickly mastered back down into the stony mask he wore. He gave her a barely perceptible nod in return before turning back to the Astronomy professor, leaving Iris feeling slightly hopeful that perhaps Potions would be tolerable.

Continuing her scan of the Head Table in between bites of her bangers and mash, Iris paused to observe Riddle; the man had a faint scowl on his face as he ate. Wondering why that was, she gave a scan of the room and noticed that she wasn't the only one looking over the teachers; it seemed a good portion of the female student body were glancing up the professor.

Iris rolled her eyes at the ogling girls before returning her gaze to the professor, this time when she looked up she found the man staring back at her with a raised eyebrow. She smirked at him and gave him a look of mock adoration and batted her eyelashes at him to match the faces of numerous girls in the Hall.

The man gave an honest grin of amusement and at that moment and Iris swore she heard the room fill with sighs as various female parties swooned. Riddle visibly grimaced at the sound and an unconcealed scowl appeared on his face as he narrowed his glinting obsidian gaze at Iris before casting the venomous look over the room.

Iris laughed quietly at the turn of events which caused her friends to look at her strangely, she opened her mouth to explain but realized that it was just one of those things you had to see to appreciate so she closed it and shook her head. "No worries, inside joke." She told them without elaborating as she tucked back into the bangers and mash.

Sunday came to a quiet close for the most part though Hermione was going on about how excited she was to start classes; it was not unsurprising that girl had already read her textbooks through already but she sat propped up at the foot of Iris bed rereading the early chapters of her Transfiguration textbook and paraphrasing the text for Iris.

The ebony haired girl didn't mind over much at the easily digested information, a little review never hurt and while Harry had been accomplished at the practical side of magic the theory of it all had never been his strong suit. For Iris, knowing she would do well on the practical side just made her that much more determined to understand the concepts behind the magic.

In that regard she probably hand a leg up there too, with Hecate sitting as the raven of knowledge on her shoulder there was much that she could learn from the goddess. On the other hand, the woman always had a price; and Iris had no desire to end up as Odin without an eye.

Grimacing at the thought, Iris gingerly touched the corner of her eye and considered how her parent's would react to that. She shuddered involuntarily at that, not well most likely; but at that sobering thought Iris scrambled off her bed and opened her trunk while Hermione stared at her confusedly.

"I promised the family that I would write," Iris said simply to which the brunette gave her a nod of understanding. Moving over to the edge of her bed, the girl set down the parchment she had fetched, along with her quill, ink, and blotter; and began to write out her missives.

The first to Liatris was a simple letter, she wished her sister well and included a full description of the immensity of the castle and how excited she was for classes to begin. She included briefly that Draco was likewise doing well and sent his love (the boy would probably appreciate the mention anyhow since it was a good mention and would stroke his ego). For good measure she told the girl about catching up with Daphne and how the girl had gone with her sister Astoria to France over the summer, as well as mentioning her new friend in Hermione.

The letter to Remus was a bit fuller, she included everything in her sister's letter save for the love from Draco since that would have been awkward. She confided in him the altercation with Neville; the boy had been an arrogant and incessant little ponce and she had felt good about striking him. She questioned on whether that was wrong of her, to enjoy that fact that she had pummeled him so thoroughly before the entire class of first years?

To Narcissa, the letter was a bit more difficult to write; she had still not completely gotten over the incident but time he's most wounds it seemed and she really did care for the woman. She decided to keep the letter straightforward and honest.

"_Aunt Cissy,_

_First, I want you to know that we aren't okay yet but I hope that by the next time I see you, we will be. I'm sick of being mad at you, I'm sick of the hurt, I'm sick of not having the friend that I could go to when I was scared of telling mum I had broken another of Aunt Petunia's cases. (I haven't broken anything here…yet, so don't think I'm hinting at something)_

_Draco said that you wanted to be in my life and honestly, I want you there too; you always were before and sometimes we all need a person to go to when something is just too embarrassing or too personal. You were always my confidant in the past, and so I hope you will continue to be my secret-keeper in the future._

_Love,_

_Your Goddaughter, Iris"_

Looking down at the parchment, the raven haired girl reviewed the words and was satisfied with the letter. It was honest, it didn't need the fluff of telling the woman how amazing Hogwarts was because as amazing as the stony castle was; family just topped it. Sprinkling the blotter over the parchment, Iris watched as the ink dried quickly before she folded the heavy stationary and moving on to the final letter.

She tapped her quill thoughtfully against her chin as she considered her words; undoubtedly a letter to her mother sent to both her mother and her father would appear strange so she would have to make a letter that satisfied them both.

"_Mum and Dad,_

_It's rather strange to be writing you of all people considering how just a few days ago, you were just down the stairs and now you're so far away. I miss you both a lot and I know you feel the same, but don't worry about me; which I guess is pointless to say since asking you not to worry is a bit like asking water not to be wet. Still, I'm honestly having a good time so far; most of the students seem to decent enough though I did get into a little scuffle with Longbottom._

_You'd of been proud Dad, the wanker spun me around when I was ignoring him so I gave him one right to the nose; and then to the willy just like you taught me. I'm pretty sure that'll keep all the gits thirty feet back just like you wanted._

_Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at) Professor Riddle came in on the tail end of the fight and set things to rights with Neville's face and all. Since I wasn't technically a student, he let me slide with a detention (bet that beats your record, aye Pop? Not even sorted and already a detention). _

_Mum, don't freak out; it was just one little fight, no need to get scared and send me off to live with Aunt Petunia and the Dursley's. _

_Eternally yours,_

_Iris"_

Somehow this letter felt good to write and when she looked it over to see why there was a kind of giddy happiness bubbling on inside of her it was because of the heading. 'To Mum and Dad' those words looked so right sitting at the top of the vellum that it brought a small smile of happiness to her face. She knew it was irrational, but to the part of her that was Harry those four words were the world; everything that had encompassed him, made him who he was, was printed on the page in a neat slanted hand, no embellishments, no flourishes; just Iris.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**September 7, 1991**

As is always the case, the first week of any new school year passes in a blur; perhaps doubly so for someone who is reliving the experience, undertaking the same lessons again. Albeit, things were a bit different for Iris; she wasn't that middle of the class student anymore, or doing just enough to get by, she was at the top of her class.

It was a different experience and while she felt a bit guilty about stealing Hermione's thunder with her vastly more learned mind, she couldn't help but feel accomplished with the fact either. To the brunette's credit while she had taken it hard she had bounced back without seeming to wilt; in fact it seemed to focus the girl, she was gunning for the number one spot and somehow Iris was firmly set that despite her foreknowledge the girl was going to push her.

Which had prompted Iris' competitive streak and she became just as invested in studying as Hermione and she had taken to it passionately; the raven haired girl had always found a pleasure in reading and learning that Harry never had. There was just so much information and knowledge that could be found locked away between the leather covers of a book; and both sides of her psyche agreed that knowledge was power.

Returning to her classes however, Iris had found that things were enjoyably different; for instance, that first Wednesday night when they climbed to the top of the Astronomy Tower, Iris and Hermione had staked out their telescopes as far away as they could from the group of students that had accumulated around Neville.

Professor Sinistra, a tall and fierce looking woman had been quick to lay into the sycophants that the boy drew to him as though he were holding court. A lot of Harry's memories brought to mind how much he had shied away from his fame; he had hated the whispers and the attention when all he wanted was to be normal.

Neville soaked up the attention like a sponge and the further away Iris got from the boy the happier she was; when they had Herbology with Professor Sprout, the girl thought the boy's head might just explode from how much praise he got. Begrudgingly, she couldn't take away anything from the boy since he still excelled in the subject matter but it was entirely sickening to watch the boy walk out of the class three times a week like normal when he should have had a small solar system orbiting him.

Charms had been pleasant, Professor Flitwick was an endearing instructor; requiring the use of a pile of books to look over his desk. When he had called roll the first time, the small man had squeaked and fallen off his stacks of books when he called Neville's name, whether it had been from surprise, loss of balance, or just plain bad luck was anyone's guess.

Between Iris and Hermione, the lesson had raced by quickly; the two of them demolishing the assignment so quick that Flitwick had even awarded them points for their quick uptake of the lesson.

Professor McGonagall proved to be just as severe as ever in her Transfiguration class, Harry had been fond of his Head of House; for all the woman was a no-nonsense type of person she had always cared deeply about her students. Iris found the same cutting wit and austere personality in her professor, but the warmth and kindness that were behind the instructor's eyes were all the proof Iris needed that this was a woman who she would not want to cross but could admire greatly.

The first lesson had been on changing matchsticks into needles, which sounded easier than it actually was; while the items were of similar mace and size; the concept of turning wood to metal was not something easily done because as far as magic went, it was an extension of the will of the individual.

The caster had to internalize the desire to affect the change, believe it was possible, and then using magic force the object to bend to your will and perception of reality. For Harry, transfiguration had been difficult to apply because of that mental aspect; but for Iris, a child who had grown up in the magical world it was easier to accept the theory and then force the matchstick to form into a pin.

McGonagall had praised the girl for accomplishing the transfiguration, "Good work Miss Potter; I believe your father would like to hear about this. He was particularly good in Transfiguration too." The woman had said fondly before she went back to helping the class, beside Iris' complete transfiguration Hermione was the only one to shift the match until it was pointy and silver.

It was pleasing to see Hermione was still lightning fast on the uptake, the girl had a learning curve that was hard to fathom and once she understood the concepts and logic of the spell theory the practical aspect of it just came with use. The end of the class had left the two Gryffindors with the only transfigured needles and exemption from an essay because of their good work.

Neville had proven little efficacy with his magic in class which both pleased and displeased Iris, she was happy that the boy had to write an essay that he was too proud to ask for help on from Iris or Hermione; and displeased because she was having far too much fun at seeing the boy's failures.

He was using his own wand this time around so there should have been no inhibitors on his magical growth this time around but perhaps worse was that the boy had been bright and eager in Harry's universe. From his performance in Herbology it was evident the boy was still smart. The eager desire to prove himself just wasn't there; the boy had no drive, no heart in the work. Evidently, he was still in a place mentally where he felt that his title left him entitled to the world and that he had no need to work for anything.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, more often shortened to Defense or DADA by the students, had been the only class that Iris had not known what to expect. In Harry's universe Professor Quirrel had been the instructor after transferring positions from Muggle Studies; but in this universe Professor Riddle was the instructor and it had been a welcome change considering Harry's memories of the class.

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><p>When the class had entered, Riddle was standing at the front of the class, leaning against his desk while the students filed in and took their seats. As per usual now that Iris and Hermione had claimed the top spots amongst the Gryffindors in their year, it was no surprise when they staked out a table at the head of the class directly across from Riddle's desk.<p>

"Bloody overachievers…" Someone muttered from the back of the class which caused Riddle to cock an eyebrow as he looked over the two girls. Iris smirked and shrugged while Hermione just beamed under the recognition, uncaring that the person had meant it as an insult. Riddle snorted at the two before he pushed off his desk and took hold of the room by clearing his throat loudly.

"Alright then, as you know I'm Professor Riddle and my job is quite simply to keep you alive. There are many things in this world that will seek to harm you, some of you may wonder why that is. In all honesty, I can't tell you the answer; a starving bear kills for food, a mermaid might drag you under out of curiosity and drown you accidentally, a wizard may want something you have." Riddle began his voice hard and cutting, drawing the eyes of the students to him and commanding all attention.

"While this class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts, I will endeavor to teach you defense against wizard and defense against beast. But if you leave my class after seven years and you learn but one thing, let it be this: There is no good and evil, there is simply power and the will to use it." Riddle paused there to let his words sink in as he cast his obsidian gaze over the class.

Of them all, Iris seemed to be taking the words the most seriously; they had sounded so familiar though she couldn't place them. But the words resonated within her, Harry had lived it after all; he had used the Dark Arts for good reasons, Molly had killed with magic when her children were threatened. The world was not black and white; people could kill to save, donate for greed, and turn on you with a smile.

The girl's brooding was cut to an end when Riddle had resumed his lesson, "You'll get to stew on what I've said for the rest of your lives but I've got a class to teach and you've some work to get into. Who can tell me what the three common grouping of spells are?" Riddle asked the class but smirked as Hermione's hand shot into the air faster than anyone could process the question. "Miss Granger?"

"Sir, the common groups of spells are Light, Neutral or Grey, and Dark magic." The girl recited perfectly which wasn't all the surprising considering that she had probably memorized the textbook. Riddle nodded at the response, "Correct Miss Granger, most magic falls under the purview of those three categories with the most extreme forms of magic falling under Bright and Black Arts respectively."

Riddle moved over to the board and began writing, "The basis for a spell's placement in a group is based on a combination of the spell's purpose and the incentive for casting the spell. For instance, the Patronus charm is an exceptionally Light spell that borders on Bright because of the biological response it has on its caster just as the Cruciatus Curse spell is an exceptionally Dark spell that borders on black."

The man explained as he drew a chart onto the board, "The human brain releases different chemicals to cope with certain stimuli, when you feel pain the body releases opiates to dull the pain, when you run for a while your brain releases endorphins that make you feel good." Riddle pause for a moment as he finished the chart of spell types

"The same thing happens with your magic, when you cast a spell correctly you feel good don't you?" The class nodded their heads affirmatively, "Right now that's because you're happy that you got the spell right, but when you deal with powerful magic; your body is rewarded for casting different spells. For example, the Patronus Charm draws on your happiest memories to work; so when you cast the spell you are thinking good things and you successfully make it happen. You feel good that you completed the spell and you had happy thoughts, so your mind associates the two feelings."

Riddle was explaining and the students were writing down the information as fast as they could, thoroughly engrossed by the lecture. "The same thing happens with Dark Magic, spells like the Cruciatus Curse demand that you have a deep desire to inflict injury; so when those spells are cast properly, the brain releases those 'feel good' chemicals and you associate hurting others with feeling good. But because the feelings are so at all with normal human behavior the use of Dark magic creates an almost euphoric high, this is why so many dark wizards derive so much pleasure from their sadism."

As Iris was scratching out the notes, she couldn't help but think of all the dark wizards Harry had fought and the uniform sadism that had been expressed in all of the truly depraved wizards; the Carrow's, the LeStrange's, even Voldemort had expressed a level of satisfaction from the spells he had used. Not all of them could have been psychotic from the get go despite all of the inbreeding that existed between British pureblood families. So if there was a biological influence on why they steeped so far into the Dark Arts then it certainly made sense.

* * *

><p>The detention with Professor Riddle had gone better than Iris had expected as well, the man's office was in the dungeons and looked incredibly comfortable. The walls were covered with rich, dark red wood panels that had a polished finish that made them glisten wetly smoothly as light from the fireplace and the wall sconces illuminated the room with a twilight feel.<p>

The room was rectangular with a small comfortable looking seating area of dark leather seats and a small couch gathered in front of the fireplace on the west end of the room arranged around a coffee table. A large area rug filled the space between the seating area and Riddle's desk on the opposite end of the room; the desk was a large and seemingly carved from the palest stone but as Iris approached it wasn't any stone she had ever seen before.

There were wood grains that traveled through its surface that looked almost crystalline; without any elaboration or decoration the piece of furniture seemed to command a silent beauty that required nothing further. The chair that Riddle sat in was likewise formed from the same material, high backed and regal looking the man sat the chair as though it was a throne; and based on the simple elegance and craftsmanship it very well could have been. As Iris drew nearer and seated herself across from the Deputy Headmaster she realized the desk was made from petrified wood which was why it looked so foreign, yet familiar at the same time.

The desk was framed on both sides by floor to ceiling bookcases that contained numerous texts in leather or cloth bindings; the names on the spines were mostly in languages that Iris couldn't understand. She could spot the English texts well enough and with Harry's knowledge the Latin and Greek based texts as well, her own knowledge of French indicated a few other texts but there were books evidently written in Russian and German, and even more exotically in Mandarin, Hebrew, and Arabic.

"Welcome Miss Potter, glad to see you arrived punctually; I feared for a moment that I might have had to send Nagini after you." Riddle said as Iris stepped into the room and began looking around taking in the décor of the room and her eyes roaming hungrily over the books in his personal library. It pleased him to see a mind so full of hunger for knowledge, "I trust you find the accommodations to your liking?" he asked with his characteristic smirk.

"I do, everything here is beautiful; if you don't mind me saying so, professor. If I might ask sir, do you understand all these languages?" Iris asked curiously even as Riddle gave a quiet snort of amusement at the question, "It would be rather pointless to keep the books if I couldn't read them, wouldn't it?" he responded with his own rhetorical question and she conceded the point willingly enough.

"Miss Potter, between you and I; I really have no desire to see you sitting here, especially since I think the attack was justified. So why don't you take the time now to do some of your homework away from the bustle of your common room, eh?" Riddle said politely as he recalled that this wisp of a girl had shattered Longbottom's nose… with a headbutt no less.

Iris smiled at the man's words and quickly pulled out some parchment and a quill while Tom cleared a corner of his desk for the girl to use. She pulled the chair she was residing in closer to the desk before she cracked open her Herbology text across her lap and quickly set to work on the essay that was due for Wednesday. The pair fell into an agreeable silence that was marked only by the scratching of quills and turning pages as Iris began to outline her essay and Riddle set about setting up his teaching plans.

It surprised Tom just how comfortable he was with the girl sitting in his office, normally he detested having anyone invade his personal sanctum; normally when he assigned detentions it was usually to give Filch something to do. The filthy squib was of little use besides being a willing host for any of the students that Riddle sent his way; but something about this girl put him at ease.

It was a detestable situation; he was the bloody Dark Lord! People had feared him all across England and this girl sat across from him oblivious to the fact that he had rained death upon people like her mother little more than a decade ago. And there she was sitting not six feet away from him as comfortable as could be doing her homework!

But even as he silently fumed at the preposterousness of the whole situation he could feel the steady pulsing of his wand as it reacted to the proximity of its brother and one look at Iris and he could see that she was utterly relaxed. He didn't much enjoy the fact that she made him feel relaxed; he could not afford weakness and a lack of situational awareness was a considerable weakness as far as he was concerned.

Perhaps further exposure to this girl would dull the effects that her magic had on his own, much like an inoculation; a little bit of exposure until he was immune entirely. Furthermore, this girl had obviously earned the enmity of Longbottom but was in the boy's house; it would be useful to have someone near enough to the boy that he could… count on, to deliver information to him about the boy and was unlikely to be clouded by friendship to the boy. Yes, that would do nicely.

In what seemed like no time at all, the girl had completed her essay and stretched languidly without getting up from her seat; and she looked up at the time, just a little after eight. Heh, turns out you can get a lot of work done in a short time when you don't have the entire Gryffindor common room to tune out. Looking around the room curiously once more she recalled something that Riddle had said, "Professor, when I walked in you said you were going to send Nagini after me. Who's Nagini?" Iris asked quietly to the professor who was frowning at his lecture notes.

The man looked up at her with an unreadable expression before coming to some kind of decision since he nodded to himself, _§"Nagini, come introduce yourself to our guest"§_ Tom hissed out, the change of language was surprising to Iris since she jumped minutely but she quickly recovered as Riddle gave her an amused smirk.

As Iris waited she could hear the sound of something heavy sliding around, considering the use of Parselmouth she was certain it was a snake of some kind but she was unprepared for the massive creature that came across the rug from where it had presumably been resting by the fire.

The snake was a beautiful green coloration with zigzagging black lines that crossed down the length of its body; and it was massive, at least twelve feet in length and easily as thick as her waist. The snake moved up the back of Iris' chair before draping itself across her shoulders and resting its head against the girl's chest.

Iris smiled at the snake though she marveled at the reptile's weight and length, she was sure that Nagini outweighed her by quite a few pounds as the creature was pure muscle. Raising her hand carefully, she began to stroke the serpent's head and body, her grin widening as Nagini gave a pleased hiss. _§"You're gorgeous Nagini"§_ Iris told the snake as she continued to pet the snake.

Tom was surprised and a bit pleased if he was honest at how well the girl had taken to Nagini, most people feared the serpent outright and those who did not fear her were often uncomfortable. He supposed that since the girl was a parselmouth as well that he should not be surprised by how affectionate Iris was.

Nagini was pleased as well by the girl's behavior, _§"Ssshe flattersss me and hitsss the right place, can I keep her Massster?"§_ The great serpent hissed the sibilant voice that issued forth had an air of femininity about it that revealed the snake's gender to Iris as the large reptile tightened its coils possessively around the raven haired girl's shoulders.

Iris giggled as she affectionately stroked the snake and Tom sighed, he knew for a matter of fact that now that Nagini had openly claimed to like the girl that she was going to want Iris around to keep petting her. But it gave him an excuse to invite the girl over without appearing to be some lecherous professor or maybe since he was using a pet that was exactly the image he would be presenting to everyone; but at least it wasn't as though he was luring the girl with candy and puppies.

_§"No you may not keep her Nagini. But if you'd like Iris; you may feel free to come by after classes to spend some time with Nagini and do your homework in peace. You will recall the password I trust."§_ Tom directed his attention to the young girl, who was looking entirely too pleased at being given unrestricted access to the office and Nagini.

_§"As long as it remains, 'open' in parseltongue I don't think I'll have much trouble."§_ Iris replied with a smirk as she leaned back into the chair she had claimed and with a smirk devoted her attention to petting Nagini, who was giving a hissy laugh over it all.

_§"Insolent brat…"§_ Tom muttered dryly under his breath while he returned to his paperwork, he didn't notice the calculating emerald eyes of Iris peering at him from under long eyelashes; her eyes mere much darker now, the eyes of someone far older and he was being weighed by those eyes.

* * *

><p>Friday morning had brought Potions, a double block in the morning followed by a free day; Iris was eager for the latter as she very much desired to dig into those books she had brought with her but had yet to look into<p>

. But first she had to get through Snape's class; Harry's experiences with Professor Snape had been a horrendous affair with the man going out of the way to attack him in class for his father's crimes.

She was fearful that he might prove to be the same way here, but so far her interactions with the man had been surprisingly tame. Suffice it to say, she had been anxiously watching the sky waiting for the appearance of fire and brimstone. It never came…

The class had been assembled in the dungeons with the students arranged two to a table, a cauldron in between over a burner that could be adjusted as needed. To the front and left of the class, Iris and Draco had paired off; while Hermione and Daphne had done likewise in the center front.

The two pairs had gotten some murmurs but a cool glance from Draco set the Slytherins in place; Iris was unsure how the boy commanded the attention of his peers but he had always been the Slytherin Prince. Perhaps it was because of his father being an important lobbyist and politician, or perhaps it was because Lucius had been a high ranking Death Eater and as many of the students came from those who had served they viewed him in the same light.

Regardless, Iris was happy that he had silenced the crowd of snakes because children were so susceptible to peer pressure and the rivalry so intense between Slytherins and Gryffindors that if one side of the room wasn't making a point over it then they shouldn't either.

When Snape burst into the room, his robes billowing behind him in his signature way that commanded attention he moved to the front of the room before it seemed to dawn on him that the class had been strangely silent and thus his opening line may not be appropriate.

Still, he paused only for a moment before turning to face the class with a menacing air; Iris reasoned that since this was the second encounter at least metaphorically speaking that she wasn't cowed as the rest of the students were. Neither was Draco for that moment, but the man was the boy's godfather so perhaps that was to be expected.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion brewing. However, for those select few," He paused and fixed Draco with a meaningful look before his gaze moved inquisitively over to Iris, the silent question apparent in the look; so she nodded her head politely with a smile.

Snape's eyes widened minutely and that twitch of a smile reappeared at the corner of his lip before he turned back on the class, "Who possess the predisposition; I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper to death."

Snape's eyes flitted about the room and locked onto Neville, a wicked smirk formed on his face and a brief glance at Longbottom showed the boy had gone a few shades paler from the man's stare. It had been terrible to watch Neville cope with Snape before but now that he was an arrogant sod, it was much more amusing and Iris couldn't hold back the slightly pleased smirk at the boy's distinct discomfort.

"Mr. Longbottom. Our. New. Celebrity." Snape said, pronouncing each word clearly with evident venom, "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" The black clad man asked the boy who was now sweating uncomfortably under the Potions Master's scrutiny.

Hermione's hand shot up eagerly and while Snape glanced over he dismissed the girl as he settled on torturing Neville. The boy quailed slightly before saying, "I don't know, sir."

Snape took a step back up the isle before pointing over at Iris, "How about you Ms. Potter, do you know?" He asked, his voice was just as commanding but the malice was gone and there was a faint semblance of curiosity if the girl had to put a word to it.

Nodding, "The Draught of Living Death, sir." She responded confidently to which Snape gave an amused smirk and a nod before rounding back on Neville, the boy who had been given a short respite visibly blanched as the attention returned to him.

"Let's try again shall we Mr. Longbottom, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" Snape asked coolly; again Hermione's hand popped up into the air though this time the professor's gaze didn't waver from the boy who was shifting nervously in his seat, unwilling to meet the tall man's gaze as he muttered, "I don't know, sir."

"Well then, Miss Potter would you like to inform your housemate where a bezoar can be found and what purpose it serves?" Snape asked as he turned his gaze over to the girl as she tucked an ebony lock behind her ear thoughtfully as she recalled the information.

"A bezoar is a stone found in the belly of a goat and it can save you from most poisons, sir." Iris answered after a moment, quite pleased at herself for remembering the information; though to be fair she probably wouldn't have remembered the answer to the question if Hermione hadn't been doing her paraphrasing thing in the morning.

"Correct, Miss Potter." Snape said as a definite bemused expression came over his features as he settled his gaze once more on the school's quickly deteriorating celebrity.

"Mr. Longbottom, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?" he inquired pointedly, andagain Hermione's hand rocketed into the air; Iris winced at the movement. She was sure if the girl tried any faster the class was going to hear the pop of a dislocated shoulder.

It seemed that Neville had reached his breaking point, "I don't know, _sir!_ Perhaps you should ask Potter or Granger, they seem to know the answer!" the boy yelled at the professor and Iris blinked at the triumphant smirk that settled on Snape's face. This man was just as cruel as Harry's had been but with it directed at Neville and not at her, she could get used to it fairly quickly. And she believed, quite happily.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor for you outburst Mr. Longbottom, and I'll expect you back this evening for detention." Snape said dryly as he perched at the edge of his desk and looked around the room, once more ignoring Hermione's hand and looking at Iris.

"For a chance to win back some points that Longbottom lost, how about it Miss Potter; do you have the answer?" The Potions Master asked succinctly, some remaining mirth evident in his voice from pushing Neville over the edge.

"I do sir, there is no difference; monkshood and wolfbane are the same plant, also known as aconite." Iris said with certainty, that particular plant held a significant connotation for the girl due to Remus' lycanthropy. She wasn't an expert in werewolves, but she knew that without the wolfsbane potion each full moon; Remus lost his mind to the wolf that dwelled within him.

"Indeed, very well then; ten points to Gryffindor." Snape said as he moved around his desk to the board and began writing out the instructions for a Boil Cure potion. As the class set about their preparations, Snape sat at his desk while he looked over at Iris and his godson gathering ingredients and setting them on the table.

* * *

><p>Snape watched Iris through his onyx eyes and couldn't help but see Lily in her place, the girl was the spitting image of her mother, save for the untamable wild ebony hair that fell down her back and framed her face. The girl's eyes were alight with emotion as she and Draco began to brew the potion that he had assigned to the class and as they completed each step and got the desired results a smile broke over her features.<p>

She was so much like her mother it tugged at his heart and if things had gone just a little differently she might have been Iris Snape and not Iris Potter. He realized that and it pained him that the woman he had loved more than anything had chosen another man over him because of his failings. He had given in to the temptation of power that dark magic afforded; he had allowed his anger with his father cloud his judgement and drove him to the arms of the Dark Lord in order to avenge himself against all the Muggles of the world.

He knew that it had been his actions that had driven Lily Evans away from him and it hurt terribly but he had accepted that she would never be his; so he had taken to watching from afar; he made the decision to protect her as best as he could. He had become a spy in the midst of the Death Eaters, walking the knife's edge as he delicately balanced his life on the finest of lines.

He had convinced Grindewald that the Longbottom child was the bigger threat, he was a pureblood and he would have the greater magical core. He had convinced the Dark Lord and inadvertently led to the end of the war when the Longbottom child defeated Grindewald; when Dumbledore had revealed his spy to the Order the first to welcome him, to back Dumbledore and accept him was Lily.

She forgave him his trespasses when he defected from the Death Eaters; he hid the fact that he still shared the Dark Lord's views, still agreed with his politics but he had feigned change for Lily because though he could not have her, he chose her happiness over his own. He lived his life to ensure her happiness which in turn made him happy; sometimes he wondered what would have happened had she not survived.

He would probably be some greasy haired, sallow skinned man with yellow and uneven teeth.

The thought made him shudder at the prospect.

Still, he was a hard and cold man; strict with his teaching and an unforgiving task master but his students learned well and those that could excel at his class through to the N.E.'s would be able to earn their Masteries.

* * *

><p>After Potions was dismissed the students broke for lunch and conversed amongst themselves excitedly as they planned what they were going to do for the rest of the day. Iris was set on reading the books that she had picked up from the Potter vault but that meant getting away from her friends; she didn't know what those books entailed and she couldn't put them at risk if whatever those books contained had the possibility of endangering them.<p>

She spent lunch thinking up an excuse that would get her away from her friends so when Hermione got a letter from Hagrid inviting her down to tea she was enthusiastic about heading down to the Groundkeeper's lodgings and having tea with the half-giant. Of course she insisted that Draco go with her since she had taken up Iris' cause of beating the prejudice out of the boy and with Daphne's encouragement the three of them were set to go.

Iris played off that she was going to visit with Nagini for a bit and she would meet up with them later, her friends had quickly gotten used to Iris disappearing most nights to spend an hour or two in the relative peace of Tom's office to do her homework or play with the man's enormous serpent.

Hermione had been the first to see the enormous serpent as it came into class earlier in the week to wrap around Iris' chair and seemingly strangle the girl with its twelve foot length. The class had panicked upon seeing Nagini, but Iris had just kissed the snake on the head and petted it throughout class, proving to the Gryffindors that she wasn't afraid of a twelve foot venomous snake that could have eaten her whole.

Waving her friends off at the Entrance Hall, Iris stole up to Gryffindor tower and opened her trunk with the parseltongue password, grabbing one of the books she slipped it into her bag and then raced out of the tower. With the Fat Lady already being on the seventh floor, she quickly found her way to the hallway with the tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet.

Looking at the blank wall across from the tapestry, Iris paced back and forth three times while thinking, 'I need a room to read without being disturbed.' Upon the completion of the third circuit a door morphed out of the solid wall, casting a quick glance to ensure she was alone; Iris wrenched open the door and stepped inside the Come and Go Room.

Inside she found a brightly illuminated study with comfortable looking lounge furniture surrounding a cozy brazier and walls that were lined with books of all sorts. It was perfect, as always the Room of Requirement had formed the perfect environment for Iris' use.

Crossing the room, the young girl plopped down onto one of the leather sofa lounge chairs; reaching into her bag she drew the tome that she had extracted from her trunk and turned it over curiously in her hands. The book was bound in dark leather of an almost inky black, there was no title on the book and as she cracked it open the words seemed to be an unintelligible series of squiggly lines that bore no significance.

She stared at the incomprehensible pages for a moment before her head slumped and she sighed, of course; Hecate would give her a book but she would find it to be an indecipherable language. She kind of wished she had gone to see Nagini now; at least she could communicate with the serpent which was something this book had proven impossible to do.

Thinking fondly of her professor's snake, Iris looked back down at the tome ready to just snap it shut when the lines seemed to be crawling across the page. Staring fixedly at the words they seemed to be resolving themselves into English words, forgetting all about the snake Iris looked at the words in curiosity but found that the lines were moving back into those illegible lines.

'But why? They were starting to make sense just a second ago! What's different now than it was a second ago!' Iris thought to herself furiously as she examined her actions but came up with nothing, the only thing she could think of was wanting to see Nagini. Once more thinking of the serpent, she could see from the corner of her eyes the lines melting across the page and forming into words.

The connotation struck her immediately this time, the book was reacting to her thoughts on Nagini; staring fixedly at the book, Iris read the opening lines of the book:

_§"Parselmagic has long been considered a rare and forgotten form of sorcery, those of us who hold the ability to commune in the tongue of serpents have been vilified and condemned as evil by the prejudices of jealous and frightened men. No magic is inherently good or evil, and that includes Parselmagic which has been a passed onto man from the Naga's of India in return for acting as their priests to bless the land's many waters._

_In order to ensure that the history and magic of our ability continues to exist, so that it might never be forgotten; this text will be my gift unto the following generations so that we might be prideful of our inheritance. The origin of parseltongue and parselmagic begins…"§_

Iris was astounded by the text, Hecate had imparted upon her champion the lore and craft of Parselmagic. She held in her hands the hand written accounts of one of her forefathers, a man who had held the gift of parseltongue and rather than spurn his gift; he had embraced it. Learned the history behind it and committed it to page so that it might be shared.

Iris had no way of knowing how long the tome had rested undisturbed in the depths of Gringotts, preserved by magic and hidden under a pile of gold when it should have been in the hands of someone who could do something with the words. Instead it had taken the guidance of a goddess to see the text brought back to the hands of someone who could use and appreciate it.

With a gleeful enthusiasm, Iris set herself to reading and absorbing as much information as she could; the thirst for knowledge that the girl had possessed long before her merging with Harry flaring to life once more and holding her in complete enthrallment as her eyes peered at the words and she drank it all in.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**September 12 1991**

The following Thursday afternoon was marked by an air of excitement in the Great Hall as the first years were getting ready for their first hands-on flying lesson; the previous week had left them all a bit sore since Madam Hooch had not let the students fly. Instead she lectured them on safety and handling procedures, which was fair considering that some of the students had never even heard of flying broomsticks before.

As the Gryffindors lined up in one of the castle's many open courtyards they were surprised to see the majority of Slytherins were already outside standing amidst two organized lines of brooms that were evenly spaced apart. The students from the house of snakes were arrayed along the right hand line as their scarlet and gold counterparts sidled into position over the left hand line.

Malfoy smirked at Iris and she grinned at the blonde boy as they nodded at each other, they both had aspirations to be on their House teams so they were looking forward to a little showmanship in the hopes of catching some eyes.

Hermione looked anxious at the broom at her feet and swallowed thickly, "Hermione, calm down; it's a broom not a dragon. Deep breaths and you'll be fine." Iris reassured the brunette who nodded and began a breathing exercise to calm her down. Iris resisted the urge to roll her eyes, once the girl got up in the air and experienced the joy of flying all her anxiety would bleed away.

At least, she hoped so; it worked for her but then again she had years of experience, and even then her very first birthday had been marked with a toy broomstick from Uncle Sirius that she had flown around her house as a neonate.

Madam Hooch strode into the courtyard purposefully, her eagle yellow eyes piercing the students as she swept her gaze over them. "Good afternoon class," She greeted them in a sharp voice that easily carried over the group that was slightly reminiscent of a hawk's screech.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch" the class responded in unison to the flying instructor's greeting, many of them looked apprehensive since her arrival meant the start of class.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting or, step to the left side of your broom, hold out your right hand and say 'up!'" Hooch instructed which prompted the class to fall into line beside a broom.

Iris held her right hand out over the broom and gave her command, "Up!" The broom instantly shot from the ground into her open hand, her fingers clenching around the wooden shaft automatically. Hermione stared at her friend before looking down at her broom, "Up! Up. Up, up." The broom jolted and rolled around for a bit but did not immediately ascend up into her hand.

Across from Iris, Draco likewise issued a single command and had the broom firmly in hand; it took Daphne several tries before her broom rose into her hand gently.

To Iris' right she heard Ron's voice, "UP!" The broom rose so sharply that he felt to catch it and it slammed into his face instead. The boy raised a hand to his pained face as Iris stifled a snicker behind her hand, but apparently not very well since the boy gave her a cross look. "Shuddup Iris!" The boy whined plaintively, his voice muffled by his hand which only caused the girl to laugh harder.

Eventually everyone had their brooms in hand though it had been quite the task for several of the students, Grabbe and Goyle for instance had to resort to just picking up the broomsticks because regardless of how many times they commanded it, the broomsticks refused to rise.

Whether this was because they lacked the power to command the brooms or because the brooms sensed the weight of their would-be riders and as a result were simply quailing on the ground in fear was anybody's guess.

"Now, once you've got your brooms; I want you to mount them and grip them tight. You don't want to be slipping off the ends now!" Madam Hooch stated as the class threw their legs over the brooms and set themselves into position.

"When I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off the ground hard, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. In three…two…" Madam hooch issued a shrill blast from her whistle which prompted the children to kick off.

Neville immediately began to rise and Iris had the impending sense of déjà vu, the boy had a face of abject terror. The students quickly began to call him back down and even Madam Hooch began barking at the boy to lower himself and dismount.

Unfortunately, the calls seemed to have a detrimental effect on Neville's control as the boy quickly began to soar straight towards a wall on the other side of the courtyard. The broom slammed into the wall, nearly sending the boy toppling over but he managed to hold himself on as the broom reversed direction and barreled back towards the students.

Students quickly hit the deck as Madam Hooch drew her wand and prepared to stop the boy but as Neville picked up speed she too was forced to roll to the side or risk impalement on a blunt wooden shaft. As the boy raced towards Iris, the girl hooked her knee around her broom and flattened herself out before barrel rolling to the side to narrowly avoid impact.

Neville shot passed his screams of fright echoing off the courtyard walls as he ascended higher and passed a statue of a spear carrying man on one of the courtyard ramparts. The spear caught the boy's robes and jerked him from the broom, now holding him aloft some thirty feet over the ground.

The distinct sound of cloth ripping could be heard in the dead silent courtyard before the boy plummeted downwards; briefly catching on a torch holder before he fell the remaining fifteen feet to the ground onto his outstretched arms.

Madam Hooch ran over to the boy as Iris touched down from the ground, Hermione looked at her in astonishment while Ron gave him a goofy grin of admiration, "That was bloody brilliant Iris," the redhead muttered quietly to her.

As Madam Hooch settled beside the boy she helped him sit upright and the class could easily see he was cradling his right arm to his chest as the professor cast a diagnostic charm over his arm. "Oh dear, it's a broken wrist! Not to worry lad, Madam Pomfrey will have you put to rights in a jiffy." She said as she helped thee injured boy up.

Iris almost felt sorry for the boy who was in obvious pain, almost though; she still felt that little bit of satisfaction at watching him break his wrist.

"Everyone should keep their feet on solid ground if the know what's good for them; if I find that any of you were flying around while I was taking Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing, the person would find themselves out of Hogwarts faster than they could say quidditch!" Hooch warned to the class as she took Neville out of the courtyard.

As she was leaving, Draco stepped forward and picked up a small glass like orb with gold markings on it and bounced it in his hand, Neville's remembrall. "Well looky here, if the fat lard had given this a squeeze; he might have remembered to fall on his arse!" He said snidely, it was obvious that Draco had not forgotten the besmirching of his family name at the start of term a week prior.

Iris stifled a giggle by biting her tongue considering how her housemates were all glowering at Draco but no one was stepping forward. She rolled her eyes and stepped forward, "Come on Draco, give it here; I'll make sure Neville gets it back courtesy of you." Iris said gently, hoping that she could defuse her friend's ire but they boy simply shook his head.

"Nah, I think I'll leave it someplace for him to find… like the roof!" Draco snarled as he mounted his broom and kicked off the ground. Iris watched as the boy quickly gained altitude and threw her leg over her wooden mount as Hermione and Daphne approached her.

"Iris, this isn't a good idea! You heard what Hooch said, if you get caught they'll suspend you; maybe even expel you!" Hermione said as she grabbed her friend's sleeve, Daphne mirroring the brunette's sentiments from the other side. "Hermione's right let him blow off his steam! No need to get involved in this!"

Iris shook her head and pointed at the blonde boy who had already peaked over the courtyard, "Look at him, he's not going to settle for just chucking the ball at the nearest roofline; he's going to look for the highest place to put it and that means that he's going to get caught by a professor. If I can bring him down now, we can all get out of this problem free." She insisted to her friends who both looked up at Draco who was still rising.

Hermione and Daphne shared a look before nodding and backing off, "Bring him back down Iris!" Daphne said encouragingly as the raven haired girl gave the Slytherin a nod before kicking off and rising at a near vertical to match Draco's height.

"Draco! Get back down to the courtyard, just chuck the ball and be done with it!" Iris called to her friend as she began to circle him as he scanned for an appropriate place to throw the ball. It was evident that Draco was seeing red at the moment and that he wasn't listening, so Iris got in close and grabbed the boy's forearm.

"Draco, get down! Now!" She growled at him through clenched teeth as her own anger began to rise, the longer they were up the greater chance of them being caught and getting in trouble.

Draco shrugged off Iris' hand as he glowered at the girl but eventually nodded his head, hefting the remembrall in his hand he aim for a nearby tower and chucked the orb. Iris watched the ball arc and a part of her mind judged that it was going to slam into a window rather than the roof.

"Shit Drake, get down to the ground!" Iris said as she shot after the glass orb; if the ball broke through the window then the entire exercise to get Draco down to avoid trouble would be for naught, the only way that you could hit that window would be from an altitude and knowing the Gryffindors it would take them seconds to rat out her friend.

Slicing through the air, Iris lowered herself along the broom to create as little drag as possible as she moved through the air; her eyes never leaving the shimmering sphere that was moving in slow motion to her eyes as adrenaline pumped through her system and increased the synaptic responses discharging in her brain.

A split moment before impact, Iris' caught the ball out of the air and her eyes moved passed the orb to the wide eyes of Professor McGonagall behind the window. Whipping her broom up and around, Iris plummeted into a vertical nose dive before leveling off directly above the roof, so close that the tips of her shoes were ghosting over the tiles before she came over the courtyard and drifted down slowly.

Landing amongst her peers, Iris dismounted and passed the remembrall to Hermione who stared at the pale faced girl as the other Gryffindors were applauding her save. "What happened Iris?" Hermione whispered only to watch the girl flinch as McGonagall's voice echoed through the courtyard.

"IRIS POTTER! Follow me!" Iris winced as she looked over at Draco who was staring at her wide eyed with an apologetic look on his face beside Daphne who was looking at her worriedly. Nodding to the two Slytherins, Iris turned to Hermione; "Make sure Neville gets that back, the last thing we need is for him to start more trouble with Draco." She said gravely as she pulled away from the class and approached her Head of House.

McGonagall was staring at her sternly as they walked briskly through the castle muttering under reath about the audacity of children and how she could have broken her neck and how displeased her mother would be; didn't mention anything about her father though, they both knew that he would have found the entire spectacle thrilling since she _didn't _break her neck.

The pair stopped in front of the Charms classroom, Iris swallowed in relief but to anyone looking at the girl it would have been easy to confuse it with fright.

Harry's memories were reminding her that this was much how it went when McGonagall had fetched him, the different circumstances and events had of course not guaranteed a perfect duplicate of his own timeline but the way things were going about now; it seemed that things would resolve themselves in much the same way.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick; might I borrow Wood for a moment?" Professor McGonagall asked as she stepped into the room, leaving Iris standing at the threshold looking into the room. The class seemed to watch the teacher that had intruded into the classroom and were casting looks over to the first year that was standing behind her curiously.

The diminutive professor nodded and gestured a student; the boy rose from his seat and followed McGonagall out into the hall to see Iris standing there. He looked at the young girl curiously before looking at McGonagall who motioned for them to follow her to an empty classroom down the hall.

When they arrived McGonagall had a small smile on her face, "Potter this is Oliver Wood; Wood, I have found you a seeker!" The woman said as she looked down at Iris pleased.

Oliver Wood was a tall and lanky young man with short cropped brown hair and brown eyes; he was well built and on the burly side though in that awkward phase of development where you could see that he had the shape but hadn't quite filled out to match it.

The Gryffindor captain eyed Iris carefully as he was sizing her up, "You sure Professor? She doesn't look like much." He said flatly as he all but dismissed Iris as he turned towards the Transfiguration instructor.

Iris ground her teeth as she stepped forward and grabbed Wood by his tie, tugging him down with more strength than her elders had thought she had; Wood was bent double staring into the fiery emerald eyes of the young girl. "I've got more talent in my little finger than you've got in your body, Wood! Don't think because I'm young or a girl that I won't kick your rear up and down the quidditch pitch."

Wood stared at the girl wide eyed as she loosed her hold on him and he stared at Professor McGonagall who had a definite pleased smirk on her face. "Mr. Wood; I saw this girl snatch a remembrall out of the air after a fifty foot dive without getting a scratch; Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it." She said backing up Iris haughty claim.

Wood looked at Iris in a new light and his eyes gleamed dreamily, "Well she does have the right build for it; light and slim, she'd probably be quite speedy. But we'd stand a much better chance of winning if she wasn't using one of the school's Shooting Stars."

Iris wasn't sure if she should take his words as a compliment or as an insult but considering that he was looking just about as pleased as the cat that got the cream, she would settle for compliment and mark him down as untactful.

"I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heavens knows we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus or Tom in the face for weeks…" McGonagall trailed off with a look that said that the defeat still left a sour taste in her mouth.

"All due respect Professor, it was the twin's first year on the pitch; they'll be much better off this year now that they've got some experience under their belt." Wood put in firmly, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more so than convince the grey haired witch.

She nodded thoughtfully before looking at Iris, "Ms. Potter; is it safe to assume you have a broom at home?" Iris nodded her head affirmatively, "Good, I suggest you make preparations for having it delivered. I'll inform you as soon as I get the Headmaster's approval." McGonagall turned and strode away purposefully, presumably to consult the Headmaster.

Wood looked over his new Seeker before leaning in, "Congratulations Potter, welcome to the team! A word though, you're our secret weapon now; so don't go telling the school that you made the team you hear?"

Iris nodded back with a conspiratorial smile and a two fingered salute which left Wood beaming as his thought turned to dreams and aspirations for the Quidditch Cup.

* * *

><p>After the events of the Flying class, Neville had learned that it had been Iris that had reclaimed his remembrall; despite the fact that she had done it to keep Draco out of trouble rather than any sense of nobility of loyalty to the pompous celebrity, he had heard otherwise from his housemates and had come up to her in the middle of the Common Room with an apology for his behavior and thanking her for sticking her neck for his property.<p>

Of course Iris wasn't going to tell him the truth behind her motivations so she simply accepted his apology and thanks; but she had held onto some personal lessons by this point, namely "forgive, but never forget."

Regardless of Neville's behavior towards Iris, the following morning in the Entrance Hall he had confronted Draco as he was emerging from the dungeons or breakfast for attempting to toss his remembrall unto one of the castle's many towers. And of course, Draco had taken the push and turned the tables by challenging Neville to a wizard's duel; and with Neville being a pureblood he quickly accepted the challenge lest he besmirch his family name.

Ron, the loveable git, still carried some of the bad blood that existed between the Malfoy's and Weasley's and had taken the place as Neville's second while surprisingly, Blaise Zabini had stepped up beside Draco to take his second.

Iris was rather curious to learn about why Zabini had stepped up for Draco when in Harry's universe the boy had been a rather reserved individual who hadn't really caught anyone's attention until well into the sixth year. So Iris wondered if this was just a result of this universe making the boy more forward or if there was something else that had motivated the Italian.

Iris, Daphne, and Hermione had shared a collective sigh and an exasperated eye roll that made the silent commentary of, "Boys…" readily apparent as the four boys went through the motions of setting up their duel at midnight in the trophy room that night.

Iris already knew it was going to be a setup since she had Harry's memories but her own knowledge of Draco told her that there was no way the boy he ruffle his peacock feathers by getting into a wizard's duel that he couldn't control the outcome of. His survival instinct wouldn't let him play that kind of a risk, and so he would use alternative methods to eliminate his adversary.

So Iris and Hermione had patiently waited for the two would-be duelists to descend from their dormitory and they were not surprised that by eleven o'clock the two had emerged in what might have been a semblance of seriousness.

Neville at least was wearing the tight fitting battle robe that accentuated his bulging abdomen while Ron had simply rolled up the sleeves of his school uniform in preparation. Iris sighed at the sight as she and Hermione rose from their seats by the fireplace and stepped up to the boys.

Hermione had opened up, "You two can't seriously plan on going out to that stupid duel! You're just going to get in trouble when Filch catches you outside of the Common Room after curfew!"

Neville snorted derisively, "Look Granger, I wouldn't expect you to understand since you're a Muggleborn but in the Wizarding Community when a challenge is issued, we purebloods have to meet it or else we'll be the laughing stock of the community." Ron nodded emphatically at this point to show his agreement.

"Draco isn't stupid; he doesn't know how good you are as a duelist and he won't risk his skin against an untried opponent. This is going to be a fool's errand." Iris commented smartly, she knew her friend after all and if Neville didn't listen to her than it would be pointless to attempt anything further.

The Boy-Who-Lived actually paused for a moment at her words as he considered the possibility but eventually he shook his head, "I hear what you're saying Iris, but on the chance that Malfoy does show; I have to meet his challenge." He stated firmly, though he missed the girl's eye twitch at the use of her first name as if they were friends.

Iris sighed as she pulled a black ribbon from her wrist and tied her loose hair into a tail at the base of her neck to keep it out of the way, "Well, if you two are set on this; you're going to need someone who actually knows their way around the castle. Since I doubt the two of you have thought much of an escape route in case things go south."

Ron opened his mouth to make a retort but subsided when he realized that the girl was right and Neville nodded at the thoughtful planning that Iris displayed; "You're right, we didn't take that into consideration. We can barely making it to the Great Hall without getting lost, not to mention running from Filch in the middle of the night. Thanks Iris."

Again, the raven haired girl gave an involuntary twitch of the eye as the familiarity that Neville was displaying at the moment but she couldn't blow up at the boy in the middle of the Common Room and expect him to still want her help. Not when she needed this opportunity to check on the third floor corridor and see what was guarding the trapdoor in this universe.

So with little delay, Iris led the group down through the entry portal and down the hallway to the nearest set of stairs; pausing for a moment at the top of the, she looked at the note that the Weasley twins had given her of the prefect routes and schedules; those pranksters knew how to break curfew the right way.

Descended the stairs quickly, the quartet moved unhindered through the halls that were illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the high windows, while they avoided all of the patrols that were out roaming. They entered the trophy room with ten minutes to midnight, as was expected the trophy room was barren save for the crystal trophy cases that gleamed in the moonlight and the reflection of light that was cast from the gold and silver cups, plaques, and awards.

Moving steadily through the room, Iris positioned herself at the opposite door while Ron and Neville were mucking about with their wands drawn ready for Malfoy or Zabini to show up any moment. The minutes passed slowly and eventually Ron turned to Neville to say something when the door at the far end of the trophy room creaked open.

They could hear a voice that was most certainly not Malfoy's or Zabini's, "Sniff them out sweetheart; they've got to be here somewhere; hiding in a corner no doubt." It was Filch's voice and he was most assuredly talking to his cat Mrs. Norris.

Quietly waving the others to her, Iris opened the door she was standing by and entered the gallery that was beyond the portal; the hallway was filled with suits of armor that were neatly arrayed several feet apart on either side of the hall. Moving at a brisk trot, Iris set the pace away from the trophy room with considerably more calm than she should have had but then again having memories of living through this experience this before and having dueled a Dark Lord kind of puts thing in perspective.

Still, she was caught by surprise when Neville tripped over his own feet and careened into a suit of armor while he dragged down Ron with him. The cacophony of sound would probably have woken the whole castle, glancing at the two boys as they struggled to their feet; Iris sprinted full tilt towards the tapestry at the end of the hall.

Slipping behind the tapestry, she ran headlong through the hidden passage that existed there and skidded to a halt in the corridor near the Charms classroom. She knew full well that they were on the clear opposite end of the floor from the trophy room.

"We've lost him for sure, stay quiet and we'll be back to the tower in no time." Iris whispered to the three that followed her, taking the lead she started off for the staircase and winced as a door ahead of them swung open; revealing Peeves.

The poltergeist rounded on the group of first years, the glee etched onto his long dead features and Iris resisted the urge to scowl at him. If only she could risk a Banishing charm without drawing any attention to herself but that was an impossibility with the other three behind her.

"Looky here, little Firsties wandering about at midnight! Naughty, naughty, you'll get caught." He cackled gleefully as he loomed over the heads of the children. Before Iris could talk him down, Neville stepped forward and swiped at the ghost with his wand, "Let us pass, Peeves!"

Of course the threatening gesture wouldn't go over well and Peeves bellowed, "FIRST YEARS IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR AFTER CURFEW!"

Biting off a curse as it rose into her throat, Iris doubled back and bolted straight for the locked door at the end of the corridor as the pounding footsteps of Filch could be heard echoing around the corner. Tugging on the door, Iris knew it wouldn't budge but she had to make a show of it before she backed away and gave Hermione a nod as she drew her wand and faced the hallway behind them.

"Alohamora" Hermione whispered as she pointed her wand at the door causing the bolt that was held in place to slide back with a quiet click, she gave the door a tug open and the group piled in with Iris closing the door behind them.

Iris turned around and examined the corridor, it seemed that Dumbledore had utilized the same defenses at this juncture as he had used in Harry's memories. Sleeping at the end of the corridor was the same massive three-headed dog, with jaws so large they could bite a person in half and still have room left over to have a couple fries.

At its feet was the familiar trapdoor and presumably the Devil's Snare that Sprout had left to arrest the intruder's fall and leave them to be strangled as the panicked against the plant's embrace. The only concern that Iris had would be the new professor Riddle, he was an unknown variable and that meant that his protection would a shot in the dark that would need to be confronted when they situation arose.

For the time being, they had overstayed their welcome as the Cerberus-like creature began to stir, Iris turned to stare at her three companions; the two boys were staring gobsmacked at the beast but ever observant Hermione was analyzing the big picture and had noticed the trapdoor as well.

Even as the boys opened their mouths to scream, Iris wrenched open the door to the Charms hallway and pulled the lot through.

The hallway was clear, evidence that Filch had moved on to search the rest of the castle as Peeves had proven to be as uncooperative as usual with the caretaker not even bothering to approach the forbidden corridor since he knew full well that it had been locked.

Though, Iris wondered who in their right minds would ward the door with the simplest of locking charms that a spell from the first year Charm's textbook would grant them access. Sure, pointy teeth awaited whoever got through the door; but didn't it make more sense to ward the door so heavily that you couldn't get past it to the pointy teeth without setting of an alarm or getting torn to shreds by a curse.

They might as well roll out the welcoming mat to whoever was smart enough to get through the door.

Regardless, Iris put the thought out of her mind as the group returned to Gryffindor tower to find the Fat Lady back in her portrait looking at the flushed and sweaty faced children, "Where have you been?"

Iris smirked back at the portrait, "Just went for a midnight stroll in the moonlight, sounded romantic up until Filch started after us. Pig snout by the way."

The Fat Lady looked at Iris as though the girl was absolutely insane though based on the wide grins and snickers of the children behind her; the girl had obviously been up to no good. Swinging open, the four piled in through the opening and collapsed into the chairs in the Common Room tiredly.

Ron was the first to speak as he recovered enough from the midnight excursion, "What do they think they're doing keeping a thing like that locked up in a school!" Neville nodded emphatically at that assessment.

Hermione glowered at the two, "Don't you two use your eyes?" she snapped at them tiredly, "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

Neville looked at her with a face that imitated the Fat Lady's a moment ago precisely, as though Hermione had gone absolutely loony. "What it was standing on? The floor, maybe? I was staring at its head, not its feet… there were three of them by the way!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the boy's observations while Iris cut in, "We noticed the heads too, what Hermione means to point out is that the dog was standing over a trapdoor. It was guarding something!" Iris stressed the last part to the two who by their expressions were realizing the significance of the statement.

Hermione stood abruptly and glared at the two boys, "Next time we warn you about something, you should listen! We could've been killed tonight, or worse… expelled!" The bushy haired brunette walked hastily to the staircase of the girl's dormitory while Iris smiled after her friend and looked at the boys.

"Now there's a lass who has her priorities in order!" She said with a small laugh as she rose from the couch and departed after her friend, leaving the two boys staring dumbly after them as they wondered what in the world had just happened.

* * *

><p>After that particularly fateful evening, the only thing of much importance was that Iris' broom arrived from home; it had been delivered to McGonagall in her office and subsequently delivered to the girl's dormitory away from prying eyes. The broom had born a missive from the Professor not to open the parcel in public, let alone reveal that she even had a broom on school grounds to call her own. She included that the quidditch team practiced three times a week and the schedule was scrawled out on the back of the note in the teacher's note.<p>

The second missive was from her parents, they were both ecstatic that Iris had made the Quidditch team as a first year; thus making her the youngest Quidditch player at Hogwarts in a century. Her father mentioned that he had polished the broom just before mailing it off with the owls so it would be just like new for when it arrived.

It was a surprise really how time flew by once Iris settled into her new routine, between her thrice weekly quidditch practices; completing all of her homework; maintaining her position as top of their year beside Hermione; continuing her study of the parselmage texts; writing back and forth to her family; and still spending at least an hour a day in Professor Riddle's study it was no surprise that two months passed in the blink of an eye and probably would have been unremarkable.

Except for Halloween…

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>So this was a pretty dry chapter but I needed to get some key points across in the story for later things to make sense. The lecture that Riddle gave is in no way cannon, but I thought it made sense from a clinical and psychological perspective; it does explain why so many dark wizards get off on the pain and suffering they cause.

Additionally, I've made several small revisions to the previous chapter; I've removed the youngest Weasley son in favor of another character. Further, I've inserted a scene on the train that provides a reason for speaking French; I feel really dumb for making them speak another language if there's no reason behind it except for future plot.


	6. Chapter V

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed, I am always grateful for your warm words of encouragement as without them I don't think I would have the desire to write this story.

On that note, this chapter is dedicated in part to my reviewers Sousie and She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Sane.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter V**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**October 31, 1991**

The morning of Halloween the scent of baked pumpkin wafted throughout the castle, as far up as the Girl's Dormitory in Gryffindor tower; Iris knew where the kitchens were and considering the castle's composition she was sure that the house-elves had spread the deliciously appetizing smell. Not that she was complaining, the smell really was quite nice but it made her stomach rumble as soon as she climbed out of bed.

After a quick burst of cold water to wake her up and a relaxing warm shower to ease the stiffness of her muscles from her thrice weekly quidditch workout, she dressed in her uniform (she still thought it rather bland but at least the red and gold trimmings brightened it up somewhat); and then descended to the common room to join Hermione and Ron down to breakfast.

The first years were abuzz because today they were going to be taught how to levitate objects, a feat that many of them had been excited about after Professor Flitwick had made Neville's toad, Trevor, zoom to and fro through the air. Iris would have been excited about it too, if she hadn't inherited Harry's mastery of the charm; still she wasn't one to be a killjoy.

When they arrived in class, the Charms instructor divided the students into pairs; Hermione was saddled with Ron and it was evident that the girl was displeased with the turn of events since she had made an effort to avoid Neville and Ron since the incident involving the midnight duel. Ron looked equally displeased at being paired with the girl who was top of her class and studiously ahead of the class.

Iris had been paired with Seamus Finnigan, from Harry's memories she could recalled that he was a nice enough boy with a love for sports; so it wasn't very difficult to engage him in conversation over quidditch and the boy took a shine to her quickly since word had quickly spread through the Gryffindors that she had made the House team as a seeker.

The class proceeded well for Iris, she feigned difficulty initially so that she wouldn't draw much attention to herself but she did raise her feather about a foot or so off the desk to prove that she could do it. Seamus had some more difficulty with it but well aware of what had happened before, Iris managed to prevent the boy from lighting the pinion with his wand.

Ron was having trouble with the spell as well, though from where Iris was sitting it was plainly evident that besides the boy's mangled pronunciation he had completely disregarded the wand movement by flailing his arms rather than the pointed swish and flick that had been advised and reviewed all week.

Hermione sighed I exasperation, it seemed Ron's incompetence was starting to grate on her nerves and she snapped at the redhead, "No, no! You're doing it all wrong! Pronounce it, Wing-gar-dium Levi-osa; you have to draw out the gar part." Hermione commented, though Ron glared at the girl harshly; as if it were her fault that he had failed.

"Well if you know so much, why don't you do it then!" Ron demanded angrily, Iris knew that the boy was just transferring his frustration at his own ineptness onto Hermione but she knew from Harry's memories how this would turn out if she didn't head this off now.

"Oye Ron! Don't bite her head off, she trying to help you!" Iris snapped at the boy, reprimanding him for his behavior; the boy looked at Iris with a glare but when he was met back by her own unflinching gaze and those of several of his housemates he subsided and flushed a furious scarlet to match his hair.

The boy looked apologetically at Hermione who nodded graciously, the brunette was smiled over at Iris for coming to her defense before executing the precise swish and flick with the textbook pronunciation that had the feather floating a good four feet in the air.

Flitwick immediately set upon the twelve year old, "You see there, Ms. Granger's done it! Very good, indeed!" Hermione blossomed under the praise and smiled radiantly at her peers.

As the class was dismissed Iris saw the look of consternation that was on Ron's face as he opened his mouth, once more heading off disaster the girl snapped into action. "Ron!"

The call drew the boy's attention from what Iris was sure would have been a cutting remark directed at Hermione, crossing the distance between herself and the pair of boys she was able to speak at a more civil volume. "Sorry for butting in here, but Ron if you want; I would be happy to help you with your spell work."

Iris said the first thing that came to mind and she was somewhat surprised by the offer that she made; looking at the redhead's face it was evident from the emotion on his face that he was wrestling his pride at needing help.

"Don't worry about answering now, consider it an open offer." Iris stated with a smile as she brushed past the boys and headed towards Hermione but she wasn't quite beyond earshot when she heard Neville's words.

"Would you look at that; she plays quidditch, gets top marks, and she's nice to boot. She's bloody perfect." The boy said to Ron who was staring at the boy like he was mental, "You've gone and lost it mate; she hates you!"

Neville shrugged nonchalantly, "She hates me now but she won't after I win her over!" he stated firmly, his eyes watching as Iris made her way down the hall arm in arm with Hermione.

* * *

><p>After classes were finished, Iris made sure to stick with Hermione all afternoon; which wasn't all that different from what she usually did anyway. The collected Draco and Daphne during lunch and then climbed up to the library to do their homework in a quiet corner that they had claimed for themselves.<p>

Madam Pince had long since gotten accustomed to the four first years camping in her library and while at first she had considered the lot of them suspicious and had watched them warily in an effort to protect the books in her care but she eventually warmed to them after seeing them nearly continuously over the last two months.

Hermione spent so much of her free time here reading that Iris was constantly surprised that she had yet to find a cot amid the shelves reserved for the brunette. On the other hand, because the girl was something of a resident at the library her friends were by extension fairly familiar with the venue as well since they spent so much time together.

When they descended to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Iris, Daphne, and Draco openly scowled at the decorations that hung rampant in the room. Floating jack-o-lanterns hung in the air over the tables, illuminating the room in soft orange hues while a thousand bats hung about the ceiling and made occasional low sweeps over the tables in clouds of fluttering leather wings that stuttered the candles.

Hermione found the scene enchanting and she wasn't the only one, many of the students were staring at the spectacle with wide eyes and gaping open mouthed. Perhaps with good reason too, for the first years this was the first time they had seen the Great Hall decorated and it was a mystifying experience to see the already awe-inspiring room with its high arched ceiling depicting the night sky to suddenly be illuminated by hundreds of floating pumpkins.

It was a testament to the beauty and power that magic was capable of, but to many the sight was a disparaging reminder that their way of life was being erased in favor of hallmarked beliefs that had been forced upon them.

As the group separated, Iris crossed the room with Hermione to take a seat at Gryffindor table besides the rest of the quidditch team. It was one of those things that Wood encouraged them to do, besides training together as a team he had insisted that they eat together, study together when possible, and just hang around together.

With Harry's memories, Iris found that she didn't mind the forced interaction since it was like hanging around old friends and the other team members had warmed up to her quickly; she had proven she deserved her slot after their first week of practice after pulling off a repeat performance of her signature vertical stoop and catch.

Although, there were some interesting changes in the dynamics this time; while Harry had been friendly with all the players he had been most close to the Weasley twins. Iris by contrast had found the most welcome reception and inclusion from the three female chasers; it seemed that the girls were happy to have another female on the team and they had taken Iris under their collective wing, though she didn't need it.

Pulling her thoughts back to the matter at hand though, Iris was trying to sort her mixed feelings on the decorations that filled the Hall while Hermione stared at her inquisitively. "Iris, what's wrong? Why are you upset?" the brunette asked quietly to her friend as the feast suddenly appeared on the golden plates.

Iris waited for the buzz of conversation to pick up through the hall before she turned to Hermione, "It's a bit difficult to explain 'Mione but if you want to know, it's these decorations." She stated but the confusion in the girl's face was so apparent that she knew she needed to clarify the statement.

"These are Halloween decorations Hermione; Halloween is a secular event marked by the giving of treats to children and dressing in costume. You're a Muggleborn and my dearest friend but this is an affront to my beliefs and the beliefs of many of the old magical families in the isles." Iris stated as she gestured towards the Slytherin table, many of the students there likewise shared the sour looks of distaste that Draco and Daphne were wearing as they looked around the room.

"In the magical community our beliefs and traditions are what shape us; why we use quills and not pens, parchment and not paper. Our traditions define us, our culture defines us! For us Halloween is the evidence that our faith has been put to the side; for us today should mark the beginning of Samhain." Iris continued as understanding dawned in Hermione's eyes and she stared at the decorations in something close to horror.

"Samhain is a part of the ancient Gaelic traditions; it is a time to mourn the dead and to celebrate life, we give thanks for our fortune, and we cleanse ourselves by walking between bonfires. For us tonight is one of the most important observances of our faith but curfew and this," Iris gestured at the Hall, "prevent us from bidding farewell to summer's end and welcoming the approach of winter."

Hermione looked truly aghast now as her features had paled tremendously, she who loved to learn had been completely ignorant of the Celtic faith that was being eroded by the practices that she had come to think of as commonplace.

"It's not your fault Hermione, you didn't know anything else; you haven't been taught the old ways, it seems that less and less are taught every year. I'm sure if I hadn't had my mother then even I would have been ignorant." And Iris sadly knew that this was the truth, Harry had never observed the traditions until he was out of Hogwarts and had been given a talking to by Walburga Black at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione nodded her head as color slowly began to creep back into her face though there was an unspoken question in her eyes when she met Iris' gaze. The raven haired girl smiled and nodded her head, "Of course Hermione, between Draco, Daphne and I we'll teach you everything we know."

As Iris finished her rant she looked up at the Head Table to see the scowl of Tom as he looked at the festive decorations, the rest of the staff was oblivious and even Dumbledore seemed in good mirth as he spoke to Professor McGonagall. It was enraging to see that the Headmaster could be amicably talking over dinner when his actions were allowing the destruction of her beliefs.

Riddle caught Iris' gaze and for a moment she thought that through the barely contained fury and disgust in his eyes there was just a touch of sadness before the doors to the Great Hall burst wide and Professor Quirrel came running into the room, his eyes were alight with terror as he raced to the Head Table screaming, "TROLL! THERE'S A TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

As he reached the raised platform he looked at Dumbledore, "Thought you should know…" the words were stated quietly before he collapsed in a boneless heap, Iris thought she could make out a faint smirk before his face was hidden by the uproar of the students as they bolted from their seats in panic.

The Headmaster rose from his seat, his gilded throne like chair sliding backward with a shriek though it didn't topple; his silver hair shone in the soft light of the hall though strangely his merrily twinkling eyes had turned steely and hard. It was a moment where the genial grandfather was replaced with the arcane sage hardened by war; his very presence commanded attention and it took much of the panic out of the students.

'Sheep' Iris thought to herself as a half-smirk half-frown contorted her features as she looked at the crowded room in disapproval before she schooled her face into a mask of neutrality and then adopting the horror stricken expression of those around her. Thankfully with the students all standing around no one had the opportunity to see her face and thus give away her secret.

"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" Dumbledore stated, his voice rumbling through the silent hall like a thunderclap; seemingly reviving the prefects he had addressed and setting them all into motion. Like the previous panic, the order that Dumbledore created was contagious and people sorted themselves out once the hierarchy was established.

Percy stepped forward, whatever could be said about the boy; he did thrive under pressure and that was a trait that you had to admire. "First years, follow me! Stay close to me and follow my orders! Make way, first years coming through!" Smart thinking there, the older students would want to protect the students and as they made way the younger students would follow the example of the older ones.

But with the troll being in the dungeons it did leave the question where the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were going to find refuge, however that was a curiosity that Iris had neither the time nor the inclination to indulge. As far as she was concerned she had done her job, Hermione was safe and she was going to leave the troll for someone else to deal with.

Iris followed at the tail end of the column of Gryffindors herding her housemates up the stairs after Percy; watching how groups of students were hurrying in different directions seeking safety, Iris was quick to gather these students and drive them up to the relative safety of Gryffindor tower.

Damn her savior complex, but she couldn't leave them to fend for themselves; the timeline was already different just because she knew what would happen but she distinctly remembered Harry fighting the troll on the fourth floor, without that intervention there was no way of knowing where that troll would end up this time.

But it seemed fate had a way of spiting those who tried to change its plans, since the group of Hufflepuffs that Harry and Ron had used to pull away from the group now jostled into the train of Gryffindors and slammed into Iris in their panic. The girl was unprepared for the impact and stumbled backwards, her foot missed the step and after that it was just an uncontrolled tumble down the stairs as the Puffs rushed on.

The last thing Iris thought before her head cracked against the edge of a marble step and passing out was a rather nastily disparaging remark that would have left several of the good badgers blushing and hot eared.

As it was Iris came to with a throbbing headache and bleary eyed, biting back a groan of pain she carefully she did a mental inventory, 'Fingers are wiggling and the little piggy can still go to the market…' Fixing her eyeglasses the world snapped back into relief and the young girl gingerly sat up.

The back of her neck felt warm and sticky, careful prodding induced a sharp pain that left her head swimming and her fingers bloodstained. 'Well that's a concussion if I ever felt one,' she thought to herself with a grimace as she peered around her.

The hall was empty and there was a prevailing silence that she knew wasn't good, Hogwarts was often quiet; but it was never silent. Silence was bad… horror films used it to build suspense right before they surprised you but in the real world, if you're ever out in the woods and you hear nothing but the wind in the trees; it meant something had spooked that wildlife and if that wasn't you then it was a predator.

And trolls were definitely predators, twelve feet tall with thick enough skin that most spells bounced right off them without leaving a mark and just enough intelligence to wield makeshift weapons; they might only be able to hit the broadside of a barn with them but that didn't mean the barn was any less flat for it.

Plus their stink, if their size and movement didn't make the animals run for the hills then the smell of stagnating defecation and spoiling meat was sure to drive away the woodland creatures.

Speaking of horrendous smells, Iris couldn't help the bile and accompanying gag that rose in her throat when she smelled the pungent odor; and she turned her head sharply towards where the smell was originating as her flight-or-fight responses kicked in.

Which was a poor move to make considering the sudden blackness that seized the edges of her sight as she aggravated her concussion. Biting her lip bloody from the sudden pain, Iris forced herself steady as her head cleared of dizziness and her nausea settled. Moving slowly, Iris scooted backwards until she had a clear view down the hall and the small of her back was pressed against the stairs.

Not exactly prime territory for defending against a troll but she had a clear sightline and her back wasn't vulnerable to a flank attack unless her newfound friend was planning on climbing another set of stairs and coming back down from another, which was still possible but unlikely; not with blood in the air.

'Well that's one mystery solved' Iris thought to herself wryly as she began to hear the scrapping of wood on stone and the heavy shambling steps of the troll, 'That's what Riddle's magic tastes like; metallic like pennies or blood. Now to find out what tastes bittersweet…' The thought actually brought a faint smirk to her lips as she flicked her wrist and felt rather than saw her holly wand settle comfortably in her right hand.

She could feel a strong warmth in the wood, it had ceased pulsing every time she came close to Riddle since she had taken to spending at least an hour a day with the man. Still the memory gave her an idea and she cast her senses outwards from her like a net; she could feel the troll around the corner and Snape a floor below and below that were the professors combing the floors since the troll had slipped the dungeons.

There, she could feel the Deputy Headmaster's aura on the first floor and she plucked at his magical aura with her own which was the metaphysical equivalent of grabbing someone by the sleeve and tugging at them.

Thankfully the distance between them turned the heady rush she would have normally gotten from the action into more of a pleasant tingle that numbed her headache and dulled her pain. That would have been more than enough prompting to continue pulling at his magical aura but she relaxed her efforts as soon as she felt the man's magic wash over her own.

With his attention set on her she could feel him moving but it would still take him a few minutes to gather the other teachers and come up four floors to her… rescue. She was loathe to put it that way when she knew she could probably turn the troll inside out but first years weren't supposed to be able to do so she would have to rely on others to "save" her until she could get away with protecting herself.

She didn't have much time to worry about the issue though as she caught sight of the troll rounding the corner, she could see the nostril's on the creature's coconut shaped head sniffing deeply as it scented her blood on the air.

The hulking form was probably as tall as Hagrid, it looked very much like someone had stuck a misshapen boulder onto a pair of stubby, thick tree trunks, and painted it a matte grey.

A most unattractive sight but one look at the bulging muscles of its arms and it was plain to see that the beast was still immensely powerful and the club that it was carrying was easily taller than her and probably had twice her weight.

She resisted the urge to retch as its stench wafted over her, its proximity redoubling the strength of the foul smell and forcing the girl to cover her mouth and nose with a handful of her robe. While the creature was dopily attempting to find its prey, a feat that Iris was not helping much since she wasn't moving, the girl was running through a list of defensive spells that she might be able to use against the troll that were age appropriate.

Wingardium Leviosa was really the only viable option since it targeted the weapon and not the troll, the Knockback Jinx might work if she pumped enough juice into the spell but that would be unnecessarily wasteful. Damn, she had really tried to avoid this situation and here she was stuck in the same position as Harry without her friends and with a concussion.

Fate really was a fickle mistress…

The troll finally picked out the young girl from the stone and Iris was left with two options for her defense, use the levitation charm and stay in character or go all out and risk exposure as not being all that she seemed.

Raising her wand, Iris executed the textbook swish and flick motion; or would have rather if a stabbing white hot pain hadn't shot from her shoulder and down to her fingers causing the girl to actually cry out in pain. The injured sound seemed to egg on the troll as is was now moving at a brisk pace and lifting its club eagerly in preparation.

She could tell that the shooting pain was derived from a broken clavicle, just one more thing to chalk up to those Hufflepuffs; Azkaban might not be so bad if she could wrest the life from those children… she would have to plot her revenge later, for now she had to figure out a way to save her own skin.

And as that thought entered her head, Iris could suddenly smell dittany in the air and she was overcome with the familiar calm that Hecate always brought with her. Though she could not see the goddess she could hear her instructions.

Raising her left hand towards the approaching creature, Iris pulled on her magic from her reserves and let it surge through her while she held the incantation and the spell itself in her mind. Her body was acting as a conduit now, rather than channeling her magic through her wand, Iris was jettisoning the raw power with the barest semblance of control on it.

As the magic spilled out though her open hand the world was obliterated in a flash of light, for a single moment the corridor became a tunnel of white light so brilliant that the very shadows ceased to exist as a bolt of lightning seared the atmosphere, leaping from Iris' hand to the troll.

It was undeterminable if the creature died outright as its entire nervous system was short circuited, the liquid in its body vaporized, and its organs cooked; or if the few milliseconds that were required to drive the life from the creature were actually experienced in an agony so intense that it had suffered beyond the capability of words to encompass.

The thunderclap that shook the very castle was derived from the superheating of the air as the lightning passed through it; and the roar was so deafening that Iris could hear nothing but the ringing of her ears even as teachers filled the corridor and descended upon her.

What she could make out when the vision returned to her eyes was the twitching form of the troll though it no longer looked grey but a charred black and as that thought crossed her mind she could smell the burnt flesh, the sickeningly sweet smell of cooked meat and that was the odor that finally tore her stomach contents from her in a violent spasm.

The sudden heave jarred her injured head and Iris careened into a blissful darkness as consciousness drifted away.

* * *

><p>Professor Riddle was furious and disgusted as he sat at the Head Table for dinner, his eyes sweeping over the floating pumpkins with their carved faces and the bats that Minerva and Filius had conjured for the evening's festivities.<p>

How he despised Halloween, if ever there was an example of the ruin that the Muggles had brought upon the Wizarding society this was it, forgetting the fact that wizards lived in constant fear of exposing themselves to Muggles or the fact that they were reduced to hiding themselves away from the world.

It was disgusting that these children could sit there and stuff their faces when the culture that birthed them was vanishing before their very eyes. He wanted to leap from his seat and yell at them, yell at the teachers that sat with him, most certainly he wanted to topple Dumbledore in his seat and strangle him for allowing the observances die.

He restrained himself because he knew logically that the perversion of the old faiths wasn't the fault of the children, or the teachers, or even Dumbledore. For generations the old ways had been slowly phased out as policies were put in place to make Muggleborn students feel more comfortable in the wizarding world.

Instead of educating the newly discovered wizards in the faith of their peers, educate their peers on the beliefs of the integrating wizards. That single decision that predated his life had set into motion a chain of events that had left most ignorant of their origins.

Most though, not all had forgotten as a glance around the room revealed to him the malcontents who shared his outrage, if not his rage. The pureblood families at the Slytherin table mirrored his sentiments as evinced by the contempt that was written plain on their faces despite their carefully schooled expressions of indifference.

The was more revelry at the Hufflepuff table though he could make out pockets of dissatisfaction; from the Ravenclaws there was more anger there than at the Hufflepuff table but much less than the Slytherins.

But Gryffindor, the children there seemed entirely oblivious; even the pureblood children there were openly reveling in the Halloween feast with abandon. In the midst of it all though was a pocket of subdued revelry, and his eyes fell upon Iris at the heart of it; and in her eyes he saw the reflection of everything he felt. Fury. Disgust. Contempt. Sadness…

Before he could contemplate that last emotion, the Great Hall's double doors burst open and Quirrel came screaming between the aisles about some troll before he collapsed in front of the head table.

The uproar that rose was instantaneous and he sneered at the display; it was mob mentality, the children allowed themselves to be swept up into a right state. To him it was a clear panic response; he had seen and created it enough times during his campaign ten years ago to recognize it now, even the scent of it was familiar to him.

As Dumbledore settled the students, Riddle rose from his seat and vaulted over the Head Table to land beside Quirrel in a crouch; pressing the fingers of his right hand against the man's throat he could feel a strong but racy pulse, probably elevated as a result of his run through the Great Hall.

"This is foolish; this cannot be done while Dumbledore is here!" Riddle said under his breath as he leaned over the Muggle Studies professor as he cast a diagnostic charm on the fully conscious man while the children bustled outside, creating enough noise to mask the quiet words.

"This wouldn't be necessary if you had just handed over the stone when you had it!" Quirrel snapped back quietly as Riddle feigned reviving the instructor and he sat up. Brown eyes flecked with azure chips stared intently into crimson speckled obsidian as the men silently warred with each other over the benefits of this plan.

Quirrel was the first to look away and Riddle smirked at the man as he stood, the Great Hall was mostly clear by this point and he tugged the recently 'revived' professor to his feet.

"Professors split up into groups of three and fan out through the school, remember this is still a large castle with hidden passages; it may have already ascended so let's clear the floors one at a time!" Riddle barked out his commands and was sweeping out of the Hall before anyone could get a word in.

Heading for the dungeons with the staff following close behind him, Tom descended into the castle's underground and cast out his senses to search for the Troll. It only took him a moment to ascertain that the creature had departed the dank stone level but he would still have to find the way that Quirrel had brought it in and seal it.

Unfortunately, the castle was a rather large structure and the dungeons were themselves a labyrinth to navigate with its numerous corridors and few discerning markings to tell any corridor apart from another. After Professor Sprout checked the same corridor twice, Riddle began to mark cleared passages with a Flagrate spell, leaving a floating red 'X' at the mouth of the hallways.

It took them the better part of fifteen minutes to find the Troll's entrance, in the furthest recess of the dungeons Riddle came across an earthen tunnel seemingly carved by hand and not magic; which would explain why the wards had not alerted Dumbledore to the troll's presence.

'Very clever, Quirrel; let the troll do the work and guarantee it a free meal for its efforts.' Riddle had to give the man credit; while basic the idea was so simple that it had beaten the castle's complex wards and defenses. Dumbledore would undoubtedly learn from this mistake though and add new defenses to prevent such an incidence from occurring again.

The tunnel would have to be explored further and investigated but for now, the tunnel would have to be sealed off. "Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick; please remain here and guard this area, we can not afford a second troll coming in through this way." Tom instructed, while polite his tone brooked no room for argument and the two teachers nodded and took up positions to defend the school.

Back tracking at a light jogging pace; Riddle ascended up to the first floor and sought out the Headmaster who was tucked into a side room off of the Entrance Hall where numerous fireplaces had been installed.

Four of the massive hearths were in use as the sorcerer was conversing with prefects. There was an air of urgency that hung around the man, though he displayed a serene calmness and listened attentively to the reports of the students before each one withdrew.

"Ah Tom, it appears that most of the students are safe and accounted for," The wizened Headmaster said though there was a harrowed look to his eyes that gave Riddle pause enough that he didn't rebuke the man for using his first name.

"Headmaster, you said 'most.' Who's missing?" Riddle asked carefully, he wasn't sure why but he could feel a cold tendril squeezing his stomach and wrapping around his spine.

"Slytherins and Hufflepuffs mostly who in their haste to find safety did not relocate with the rest of their Houses; Ravenclaw and Gryffindor prefects seemed to have taken in those students. It seems that Miss Potter took it upon herself to gather as many of the lost students as possible and directed them to the Gryffindor tower, but she herself is not among them." Dumbledore said his voice a mixture of pride and worry as he spoke of the missing child.

Tom felt that cold tendril wrap around his lungs and squeeze, though he did not present his stress to the Headmaster. He had only had this experience once before; when Hogwarts had nearly closed after the death of a student. He was afraid, but why was he afraid; certainly not for himself, he could dispatch a troll with a flick of his wand… but Iris couldn't.

But why should he care about the student who carried the brother to his wand, she had been nothing but a thorn in his side; forcing him to devote hours of his time to her presence so that he could attune his wand with her magic and cease the incessant pulsing.

It didn't matter that she was intelligent and a particularly astute student, perhaps the best student he had ever had at Hogwarts save perhaps Granger who seemed to swallow knowledge whole. She was still just a child, a talented and useful one, but still a child and that was no reason for him to feel worried on her behalf.

How many of his followers had he sent to their graves without feeling worried for them in the slightest? Still, the circumstances were different he could deduce that much logically; he did not have an army at his beck and call anymore, so every follower he had counted now. Yes, that was it; he realized her strategic importance as an informant and he could not risk losing her without having any other spies so close to Longbottom.

His mental deductions had only taken a moment though it seemed that Dumbledore had noticed the cogs in Tom's head spinning furiously as there was a merry twinkling in the old fool's eyes again. He resisted the urge to snatch the blue orbs from the man's head, "The girl's probably gone gallantly off to rescue the lost children or fight the troll herself; she's as Gryffindor as they come." He replied coolly, a small smirk of satisfaction forming at the Headmaster's frown as the merry twinkle dimmed.

"Let's pray not Tom, I shudder to think what would happen if a troll were to get their hands on a child." Dumbledor replied gravely as he motioned for his Deputy to lead the way out of the room.

Riddle nodded his head and prepared to leave when he felt a tug on his magic; the sensation was altogether different from anything one could experience. It was as if someone was reaching into your chest and pulling at some invisible string; it wasn't painful but it was entirely disconcerting.

Glancing over his shoulder, he glared at the Headmaster accusingly before he felt the same pull again although this time the sensation lingered; using his magic, Riddle seized the 'string' and followed it stretching his senses along the probe until he could taste the scent of ozone and feel the static charge that was the physical manifestation of Iris' magic.

"She's on the fourth floor…" Riddle said as he stretched his senses further and examined the girl as best he could, "She's injured, I can't tell how seriously…" Spreading his senses further from the girl he could feel the mass of the troll further along the same floor, "And the troll is there, on the fourth floor."

Dumbledore was already moving past the Defense instructor and sweeping his wand through the air, several silvery apparitions bursting from the end of the wooden instrument that Riddle recognized as Patronus forms, undoubtedly carrying messages to the staff.

The pair reached the stairs and quickly began to ascend, Riddle taking the steps two at a time while Dumbledore trailed only a step or so behind him. As they reached the third floor landing the men were thrown to the ground as light filled the stairway, quickly followed by a shuddering quake and a roar of sound that physically knocked the air out of Tom's chest.

The buffeting pressure disappeared as suddenly as it had come and the two men looked at each other in shock as the scrambled to their feet and raced up the last two flights of stairs to the fourth floor and stood frozen by the scene.

Laid out flat on its back was a full grown mountain troll, it's once grey hide was blackened and charred as wisps of smoke curled off its body; filling the air with the pungent odor of cooked meat and a slight undertone of fresh rain and ozone from the ionized air.

Tom's gaze swiveled over to Iris was sitting against the stairs staring blankly at the scene; the girl was a right mess, her wild hair hung loosely around her but was matted against the back of her head thickly. She was paler than usual and the fine hair that dusted her arms was standing on end and her skin was visibly speckled with gooseflesh.

The cuff of her left sleeve was smoldering slightly, smoke wafting into the air; and her right shoulder was unnaturally slumped down. Glancing over at the stairs, Tom could see a trail of blood droplets and a good fist sized puddle of the red fluid pooled at the base of the steps from where her head had rested for some time. He was sure that more blood would be found in her hair and soaked into the back of her robes considering how profusely head wounds tended to bleed.

Quickly moving over to the girl, Tom kneeled beside her and waved his hand in front of her face trying to draw her back to reality. "Miss Potter…Potter… look at me child!" Tom said a layer of urgency in his voice as the girl did not respond. Cupping her chin, Riddle turned her head to look at him and he stared into her eyes to see the pupils were as small as he had ever seen them on a person, leaving her eyes a much more brilliant shade of emerald without the black centers to provide any contrast.

As he stared intently, he could see her pupils dilating slowly as they funneled more light into the girl's retinas. It appeared that her eyes had responded to the intense glare that the lightning she had manifested had created by shunting the pupils shut to limit the amount of light to prevent her from going blind. It was a testament to the healing nature of magical people that the girl hadn't gone blind outright from the spell.

When her pupils returned to normal size, he relaxed slightly and brushed her hair behind her ears in an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. He didn't know why he did it but it had seemed like the right thing to do, up until he saw the trickle of blood coming from the girl's ears and dripping from her earlobes to the collar of her blouse, which was already soaked in blood and turning her skin a faint rosy color as the cloth rubbed against her neck.

Riddle was quickly joined by Snape, the Potions Master arrived with Quirrel in tow; the latter upon seeing the troll backed against the balustrade and placed a hand over his chest as though stilling his heart. McGonagall arrived shortly after and gravitated towards her injured student while Dumbledore walked around the felled trolled curiously inspecting the creature.

With three teachers surrounding the girl, Iris seemed to regain her vision and she stared at them curiously before her eyes fell on the charred creature. Tom moved to block her vision but her pale skin took on a distinctly green ting and she promptly wretched on the ground besides her, McGonagall and Snape moving to dodge the semi-digested dinner.

It seemed the jarring movement was too much for the girl as she promptly blacked out, Riddle caught her before she could hit her head further on the stone floor while Snape flicked his wand and banished the vomit.

Riddle prepared to lift the girl into his arms before Snape stopped him, "We shouldn't carry the girl, not with a head wounds; the steps could worsen her condition." Tom nodded at the man, mentally berating himself for the stupidity of his action.

He knew that, he was the DADA instructor; what the hell had possessed him to try to lift the girl! Stepping back from the girl he drew his wand and silently waved it over Iris, causing the child to rise into the air as though she were laying on a stretcher. Her wand dangled loosely from her fingers, and he was suddenly struck by the scene before him.

If he hadn't seen the girl's slowly rising chest as she breathed, it would have been easy to believe she was dead; and that thought chilled his veins and he felt his heart overcome with an iron vice that threatened to strangle the beat in his chest.

Fury rose up in him over his inane sentiments, what should he care if this girl died; it was no concern of his! She was a distraction and a weakness for invoking such concepts in him and he steeled himself; drowning the feelings in an icy indifference that left him in absolute control.

Stepping forward, he grabbed the girl's wand and nearly lost the carefully schooled mask he was wearing as he felt the wand flare with heat nearly searing his hand as her hand tightened around the holly rod, but it lasted only a moment before the wand pulsed and cooled to a comfortable warmth as the girl's hand relaxed and allowed him to take it from her.

That was rather strange, Riddle thought to himself as he pocketed the instrument and turned to guide the girl's body down to the Hospital Wing; his eyes feel upon Quirrel and he met the half brown, half ultramarine orbs that were staring at him and the girl carefully… calculatingly. Giving the man a pointed glare, Tom descended the stairs flanked on either side by Severus and Minerva as they watched the girl concernedly.

Dumbledore finished his examination as the group descended the stairs and his eyes followed the ebony locks as they vanished from sight much as his Muggle Studies Professor was doing.

'How remarkable that so much power came from such a young girl' The Headmaster pondered as he wore a thoughtful smile, 'I will have to keep a close eye on that child; she could prove to be immensely useful.'

Clapping his hands, Dumbledore was met with several pops as a group of house elves appeared before him. "Remove the troll to the Black Forest and see about repairing any of the damage it may have caused." Dumbledore intoned as he strode over to the small pool of blood that was coagulating on the stone floor.

Raising a hand to banish it, he thought better of it and instead drew his wand; with a careful swish, the blood rose from the stairs and formed a small sphere in the air as he conjured a vial from the air and directed the blood inside of it. Stoppering the vial, he pocketed the red fluid and looked over at Quirrel who was staring at him curiously.

"I suddenly had the thought of a rather interesting Christmas present for the Miss Potter, I'm sure she won't mind." He said whimsically to the man, who simply bowed his head in acceptance as the Headmaster advanced up the stairs.

"I'm sure it will be quite an interesting gift indeed, old friend." Quirrel muttered as his brown eyes flashed blue for just a moment before he too scurried away to his apartments; leaving the house elves to move the body of the troll. 'I may have failed to acquire the stone, but tonight has proven to be a most informative event.' He thought to himself as a cackle rose in his throat and threatened to burst.

* * *

><p>Iris floated in an inky darkness aware but not awake, she had become used to this sensation and viewed the stage of consciousness as something of a retreat; in this state seconds passed like hours giving her time to think and plan because time was such a precious commodity that few ever have enough of.<p>

But she was not alone in her mental wanderings, Hecate's ethereal form was with her now in her softly glowing silver gown and the three faced mask that revealed nothing but those same piercing golden eyes that could see down into your very soul.

"What happened tonight?" Iris asked as she looked at her patron meeting the goddess' gaze with her own; not challengingly or warily but simply to fixate on something real, behind the entrapments to the entity itself.

"Tonight you exercised a power that has been nearly forgotten by wizards today but was once much more common, wandless magic." Hecate replied in that powerfully haunting voice that bespoke of power and an agelessness that made Dumbledore a pale shadow in comparison.

"The wizards of Britannia, the ancient druids that once lived here were feared for their power, they wielded their magic the way you discovered it last night, wandless magic. It is the primordial way to use magic, it is still seen today as children use it reflexively; what the Ministry terms 'accidental' magic." Hecate explained as the darkness around them began to come alive with images… memories of the past.

"Wandless magic is much like opening the spillway of a dam; it flows out constrained only by the direction of the channel it is released into. The magic is defined only by the caster's will, the stronger the will of the wizard the more defined the magic." Hecate indicated a memory, the events of Iris against the troll from a third person perspective illustrating the white flare of lightning that the girl had used against the creature.

"But the Romans were an older culture, they had become 'civilized' and when they came to Britannia they brought with them their wands. Wands acted as a focus for those wizards, gave them greater control of their abilities; like a valve, it allowed them to control the pressure and define their magic into narrower constraints." Hecate pulled up the image of Ollivander's wand shop and how it started off as a street vendor until Diagon Alley had formed around it until the present day.

"Over time, wizards forgot what it was to define their magic through their own force of will and now they all rely on a piece of wood with a core, some motions, and a few words. They have forgotten their origins and now only the 'strong' wizards delve into wandless magic as if it were some kind of astonishing feat!" Hecate obviously had a passion behind her words and Iris could feel the weight of the goddess' power like a pressure on her chest as she became just the remotest bit angry.

Hecate seemed to notice and the oppressive tide of magic eased from Iris and the woman's golden eyes conveyed her apology though she did not voice it. "Wandless magic is the birthright of every creature that has magic in their veins; take one look at house-elves and goblins and you'll understand the power they wield. Harry saw the power of it, Kreacher Apparated through Voldemort's defenses, a man considered to be the strongest Dark Lord the world had ever seen."

Iris nodded her head as she looked at that particular image on the wall, Kreacher surviving the test that Voldemort had placed around one of his horcruxes and teleporting away.

"Like any skill, with practice and exercise of it comes mastery. You will need to earn that mastery Iris, this is not something I can give you; and I implore you to master this skill because I suspect you will have need of it in the future." Hecate said as she wrapped Iris in her arms and gave the young girl a kiss on the forehead before Iris was swallowed by light.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**November 1, 1991**

The day after Halloween, Iris awoke to the familiar white ceilings and the smell of disinfectant that only accompanied the trip to a hospital; and since she was quite sure that her injuries hadn't necessitated a trip to St. Mungo's then she was left with the Hospital Wing of the school. It seemed that she was fated to become quite familiar with this section of Hogwarts as Harry had.

As she stirred from her bed, Iris didn't know what to expect but she was quite relieved to know that her head did not threaten to split open from pain and that her right arm was able to support her weight as she sat up and scooted her back against the headboard as she reached for her glasses on the bedside table.

Madam Pomfrey appeared out of thin air it seemed as soon as her patient had shown signs of life and she bustled right over. One look at the woman and Iris was relieved by the sight, no tightness around the lips or eyes and the mediwitch's forehead was quite clear of frown lines at the moment; which meant that she wasn't in any serious condition.

"Well dear, I'm glad to see you're awake. Let's have a quick look at you, shall we?" The nurse asked rhetorically with a warm smile that would have put Iris at ease if she wasn't already. Madam Pomfrey quickly drew her wand and waved it over Iris' head as she cast a diagnostic charm.

"Concussion is gone and so is the skull fracture, ear drums are fully repaired, and your collarbone is good as new." The woman said more to herself than to Iris, "Color looks good, and your eyes still seem to be functioning."

Iris nodded her head as she contemplated the significance of the last two observations; Pomfrey seemed to catch the confused look on the girl's face since she explained. "You lost a good deal of blood young lady and Professor Riddle says that when you were discovered your pupils had shrunk to the size of pinheads."

Iris nodded her head accepting the nurse's words as she cast a curious look around; she had yet to be in this part of the castle yet but it looked like a carbon copy of the one from Harry's memories. Well, how much different could the place really be; see one hospital you've seen them all really, only difference was the layout and staff.

"Am I fine enough to attend classes then Madam Pomfrey?" Iris asked the mediwitch as she returned her attention to the woman who held the power to discharge her or keep her waiting in the hospital bed, it was a comfortable bed but it was still a hospital bed.

The nurse looked at her for a moment before nodding her head, "I suppose you could, although if I remember correctly the only thing you had today was double Potions and since lunch just passed there wouldn't be much point to it, now would there?" Pomfrey inquired with a playful smile as she moved from the edge of the bed.

The woman returned quickly with a tray of food for the girl to eat since she had missed breakfast and lunch apparently and had been treated for her injuries. Iris' stomach growled audibly at the sight of the food and Pomfrey smiled delightfully while the girl tucked in.

Moving away from the hospital bed, Poppy allowed the girl to eat in peace while she returned to her office and made a fire call to Dumbledore in his office to inform him that the girl was awake and could be seen. After her brief call she stepped back out into her infirmary and watched Iris from afar, making sure the girl ate the meal she had set out for her.

After a few minutes, Iris leaned back against the headboard contentedly full of the soup and sandwich that the Nurse had provided her with. As she looked up for the nurse, she heard the swishing of robes and looked over at the entrance to see the Headmaster approaching her and the faces of several children at the threshold, notably Hermione, Draco, and Daphne but they weren't alone.

Dumbledore waved at Pomfey as the nurse removed the empty tray from the bedside which allowed him to sink gracefully onto the edge of the bed beside Iris' legs. "Hello my dear, I'm very glad to see you awake; you gave us all quite a scare." The silver haired man greeted her as he sunk into the cushy mattress.

"I'm sorry to have worried you Headmaster, but I'm quite alright as you can see." Iris responded cordially with a soft smile, honestly Iris didn't know how to feel about the man. In Harry's universe the man had been his hero, his mentor, a grandfatherly figure; but he had also been a manipulative bastard who had dicked around with Harry's life so that he could die at Voldemort's hand in order to destroy the man's horcrux.

Iris may have looked like an eleven year old but she had nineteen years of Harry's life experiences and that boy was definitely older than any nineteen year old should have been, she wasn't about to play into the headmaster's manipulations unless it served her to do so. She wasn't going to be fattened up like a lamb to the slaughter; she had family to protect this time around and friends that she cared for too.

Dumbledore smiled at her warmly, "Worrying my dear, is what someone in my station does. I'll have you know that when I took the position of Headmaster, I still had color in my hair." Iris looked at the man's silver hair skeptically; it was hard to imagine that the man before her had ever been young enough to have color in his hair.

"If I might be so bold sir, I think silver suits you well." Iris responded instead, it was more polite at least than saying what she had been thinking about the old wizard; it seemed it was an adequate response since the man laughed cheerfully at her words.

"Thank you child, it is seldom that I get such compliments." Dumbledore said while he playfully smoothed his hair, the movement looked so ridiculous that Iris couldn't help but giggle at it; the Headmaster's eyes twinkled merrily at the girl's response before he cleared his throat and took on a more serious air.

"Now my dear, I'm afraid I do have to ask you a rather serious question: Do you know what you did to that troll last night?" Dumbledore asked quietly and watched as Iris' cheerful expression fell quite sharply and she looked down at her hands, her hair falling in front of her face and preventing him from seeing her facial expression.

Iris felt the wash of magic over her and a sudden compulsion to look the Headmaster in the eye came over her but she resisted the urge, it would be far easier for Dumbledore to accept a stubborn will in a child then for him to come against her Occlumency barriers now.

"I killed it sir, I didn't mean to but I was frightened and I just wished that it would stop coming at me." Iris said softly, her voice as haunted and sorrowful as she could make it. "I wanted it to stop coming towards me so badly and I couldn't raise my wand because my arm hurt so much. The next thing I remember is a bright light and the smell… it smelt like cooked meat; and after that I woke up here."

Dumbledore looked at the girl sadly; she was so remorseful for taking a life that even his compulsion could not force her to meet his eyes through her sadness. He nodded and patted the girl's hand, "I understand child, it is never easy taking a life; even when it threatens your own. Our magic is a dangerous and volatile thing, so often it reacts in our moments of greatest desperation that we have little control for what happens."

Like Ariana, his poor sister, how much had she suffered because of her unstable magic; he saw much of his younger sister in this girl before him and he only hoped he could keep her from her fate. "Do not blame yourself Iris, for something so beyond your control. If you need help getting through this difficult time I will make myself available to you and the rest of the staff will be there for you as well; but if you perhaps decide to confide in someone your own age, might I suggest Mr. Longbottom; he is quite familiar with the loss of life as I'm sure you know."

Iris smirked under her curtain of hair as she felt another wave of compulsion magic sweep over her at the Headmaster's last words. "Thank you sir, I'll come to you if I need anything." Iris replied as she felt the bed lift as the Headmaster rose from his perch at the edge of his bed.

"Ah, one more thing Iris; Professsor Riddle wanted me to inform you that he has your wand; he will be expecting you in his office as soon as you've been discharged." Dumbledore said before he departed the Hospital Wing, Iris waited until he was truly gone before she lifted her head and swept her hair back from her face.

As soon as Dumbledore was out in the hall, the sounds of hurried footsteps filled the infirmary as Iris' friends surrounded her bed in a small group. On her left was Hermione who stood beside Ron and strangely enough Neville, and on her right stood Draco, Daphne and another surprise guest; Blaise Zabini.

It was hard to miss the air of hostility that filled the air as the Slytherins faced the Gryffindors, or more specifically as the boys glared daggers at each other for being in the same vicinity while Daphne and Hermione were just plain looking at her worriedly, the concern on their faces was endearing.

"I'm fine, I swear! Madam Pomfrey said I'll be okay to leave today." Iris said preemptively answering the question that occupied the girls' minds. As soon as she said the words, the both of them seem to visibly relax and they hugged her tightly.

"When we heard you were in the Hospital Wing this morning we thought the worst, 'Mione said you never returned to Gryffindor tower last night and with the troll on the loose… we were scared something terrible had happened to you!" Daphne said in a rush as sat beside her friend and cast her arm around Iris to pull the girl into a one armed hug.

Hermione mirrored the action on her other side and nodded her head in confirmation with Daphne's words before she asked a decidedly more pragmatic question, "Why didn't you make it to Gryffindor Tower? I remember you being right behind me and you kept grabbing the lost students and giving them instructions and then all of a sudden you were gone!" Hermione said as she pulled back and gave her ebony haired friend a penetrating look.

The boys stopped their staring contest to look at Iris imploringly, the interest evident on their faces; "If you think I went looking for the troll to play the hero, uh uh! No way in Merlin's name would I have gone after a troll!" Iris said emphatically to which Hermione and Daphne looked relieved, Draco and Ron looked minutely relieved at her words though they tried not to show just how much because they were in the presence of their archenemies.

Neville looked crestfallen, as though he had expected the girl to go on some kind of school saving adventure with heroics and fanfare. Blaise maintained a stoic indifference, and Iris was again wondering why he was there; she wouldn't be surprised if the boy really was indifferent to the situation since she had never so much as had a conversation with the boy.

"I got separated from the line when some Puffs jostled past us on the stairs; I fell down the stairs and cracked my head. When I come to I'm staring down a twelve foot mountain troll, I can't move my arm because my collarbone was snapped; next thing I know there's a blinding flash and a thunderclap, when I can see again I was surrounded by professors and Dumbledore was standing over a cooked troll."

Iris explained the situation, it wasn't the entire truth but nothing she had said was a lie either and if they drew certain conclusions from her version of the retelling of events then so be it, it suited her just fine that way.

Her friends seemed to accept the story as Ron looked at her wide-eyed, "That's wicked Iris! I knew I heard thunder last night! Wow, can you imagine that; Dumbledore hurled lightning at a troll!" The redhead was saying enthusiastically as he looked at Neville before looking at the Slytherins and sobering a bit.

Draco sneered at the boy, "Of course he did Weasley, what did you expect the man to do? Leave his student to fend off a troll on her own?" The platinum blonde said condescendingly, a hard stare from Iris prompted a soft smack on the boy's hand from Daphne.

"Be nice! We're in the infirmary Draco; do you want to get us kicked out?" The honey blonde said with a pointed glare as she jerked her chin over to the matron that was sitting behind her desk at the other end of the ward, watching them intent in case they were distressing her patient.

Draco looked sheepish for an instant and flashed Iris an apologetic smile before he took on a cold face when Neville laughed at him, "Did you see that! Malfoy actually looked sorry there for a second!" The round faced boy said with a vindictive smirk that left the Slytherin heir bristling with rage.

"As should you Longbottom, did you not just hear what was said! We could all be tossed out of here if you don't control yourself!" Blaise said cuttingly as his hand gripped Draco's wrist to restrain the boy from drawing his wand, his amber eyes boring into Neville's chocolate ones.

Iris couldn't be sure if it was the words or the stare but Neville shut his mouth at the retort and simply glowered at the Italian pureblood. Whatever the case, Blaise made a nice counterpoint to Neville's obnoxious arrogance with his reserved confidence. Still she didn't know much about the boy though she would endeavor to learn more about him and perhaps befriend him in the future… if only because he had proven more successful at quieting Neville than anyone else had been so far.

"Well on that note, I'd rather like to be getting out of here; Hermione, did you happen to bring me a change of clothes by any chance?" Iris asked the brunette who was currently resting on her shoulder, much the same way she was doing to Daphne.

Hermione nodded with a smile as she pulled up Iris bag and placed it on the raven haired girl's lap, because of the bag's expansion charms there wasn't even a bulge in the fabric from its contents. Holding her bag, Iris gave the boys a pointed look that only Blaise seemed to be able to decipher since he actually managed to blush slightly through his tan as he pulled Draco away and mouthed 'privacy' at the boy.

Draco blushed as well but nodded his head, "We'll see you at dinner Iris!" he said as he gave his 'cousin' (really his second cousin once removed but who's keeping track) a hug and a peck on the cheek before he and Blaise left the infirmirary.

Ron was left gaping at the display of affection and Neville looked as though a blood vessel were about to pop in his temple before Iris explained their familial connections to settle the Boy-Who-Lived from having an aneurism. Even then he still looked distinctly peeved as Hermione herded the two out of the infirmary so that Iris could change out of the hospital gown and leggings into her own clothes.

She knew that she was about as clean as you could get since she had been in Madam Pomfrey's care, but without the conscious shower that she was used to she couldn't help but feel a bit dirty even if it was irrational. Dressed in her casual jeans and a thin long sleeved jumper, Iris emerged from the infirmary's loo and bade Madam Pomfrey farewell and a sincere thank you for patching her up before she was escorted down to the dungeons by Hermione and Daphne.

She rolled her eyes at her friend's protectiveness but she smiled all the same, if they wanted to stick close to their friend after a near fatal run-in with a troll; she supposed that they were a bit entitled to do so.

Iris entered Professor Riddle's study after hissing the password to an ornate mural of a dragon guarding its horde. Looking around the room, she was surprised to see that Deputy Headmaster wasn't sitting at his desk as usual but was instead sitting in an armchair by the fire with Nagini draped across his shoulders as he read a book through reading glasses.

With much less trepidation then she had once shown in this room, Iris crossed over to the lounge portion of the room and plopped down in the overstuffed leather armchair across from Riddle and simply watched him read.

The man was absent his robes now and she could admire his taste in clothes now that he was swaddled in all that excess black cloth; his cargo styled trousers were a dark grey that hugged his hips but relaxed through the thigh and lower leg to gather slightly around the well-worn leather shoes he had on.

He favored long sleeved shirts and now was no different, the white shirt was tailored nicely to display the trim athletic body that he possessed without giving away anything else; the first two buttons were left undone to reveal a smooth expanse of pale peach skin.

His thick black hair was loose at the moment and hung down to his shoulders in a light wave; a forelock rested along his brow above his right eye and accentuated his aristocratic and well-proportioned features.

The man was without physical imperfection, easily the most gorgeous man Iris had ever seen and it was easy to see why so many of the girls and women at Hogwarts swooned over the man; it was impossible to find the man anything but attractive.

The man even moved with a grace and fluidity that was almost serpentine, every motion was exact with no wasted energy, powerful but not flauntingly so; as though he were constantly ready to strike against any foe. The man was constantly aware, even now in the comfort of his study with nary a threat to him the man was on guard, on a perpetual vigil.

And for all his beauty and strength, Iris felt sorry for the man who could not relax in his own sanctuary; and she wondered what this man had been through to deprive himself of the simple pleasure of letting down the mask of indifference, to just let himself be.

"If you're quite done appraising me, what is it that you want Miss Potter?" The Deputy Headmaster inquired his voice rumbled through the air in that cultured baritone of his; never anything but steady and paced.

"The Headmaster informed me that you have my wand sir, I would like it back." Iris replied simply as she lounged backwards into her seat as she relaxed into the comfortable leather and basked in the comfortable warmth of the hearth while she watched her professor.

The man glanced at her over the top of his book, a glance at the spine revealed it to be in Arabic and as a result beyond her level of comprehension. His face was hidden behind the leather bindings but she was certain he had a smirk on his face as he reached onto the side table beside him without taking his eyes off of her.

The only indication that the man was going to whip an object at her was the hitch in his shoulder that caused Nagini to rear back a bit from the shift in position. But that was all she needed to move her head to the side and snatch the object out of the air with her left hand, her Seeker's reflexes kicking in.

The object was scalding hot for a moment before the temperature dropped dramatically into a more therapeutic warmth that eased the pain out of her hand. Shifting her gaze to the object, she realized that it was Riddle's wand, the brother to her own; yew, thirteen and half inches, with the phoenix feather core.

It felt familiar yet foreign, the same and different from her own wand; but she knew that the moment she had laid hands on it. It hadn't reacted as smoothly as her own wand had the first time she picked it up but this wand was close enough to her own that she knew it would have no problem conducting her magic.

"Then you notice it as well." Riddle stated more than asked, almost as though he were reading her mind though Iris knew that hadn't happened, they had simply spent so much time together they could read each other.

"But why would your wand choose me when it already chose you?" Iris asked as she sent a small pulse of magic through the wand and found it responded just as powerfully as her own, shooting red sparks from the tip.

"I have no answer for that but I believe that since the wands are brothers, they recognize the other's master as their own as well." Riddle suggested as he set down his book and lifted Iris' wand from the table beside him, likewise sending a shower of sparks from the tip of her wand.

Iris contemplated the implication of that, Harry's memories of the war was bereft with scenes of wands failing to defend their user since they had not won their allegiance; many had been injured or killed because they had not earned their control of the wand in their hands. But it seemed that their wands had willingly chosen a second master to give their loyalty too, that was a strange thing indeed.

The pair traded their wands and Iris felt the holly pulse in her hand, rejoicing in its return to its owner as it warmed comfortably in her hand before settling into what the girl could only think of as a slumbering state as it sensed that it was not needed at the moment.

She didn't remember Harry's wand ever being this responsive and he wondered if this was a property of her own universe or just a byproduct of her situation.

"Thank you for caring for my wand Professor." Iris said warmly to the DADA instructor to which he simply bowed his head in acknowledgment before waving a hand at the door. "I'm sure your friends are expecting you at dinner Miss Potter." The man said in a clear tone of dismissal as he raised his book again and returned to whatever it was he was reading.

Rising from her seat Iris crossed over to where Tom was sitting and leaned over him which caused the man to look up at her in consternation for invading his space but before he could retort the girl kissed Nagini on the head and hissed good bye to the serpent before departing the room.

_§"Was that a wise course of action master? Presenting your wand to the girl, that is."§ _Nagini inquired after the door shut firmly behind Iris' back, _§"She is the first of my new followers; this will allow me to know where she is and when she is threatened."§ _Tom responded, logically he needed to ensure that with his depleted resources the ones that he developed now were protected.

The snake nodded her head in agreement with the statement, _§"Indeed master, but the child will also know where you are and when you are threatened. And when she learns the true implications of this…"§_

_§"She will not learn of any other implications unless she develops a penchant for Hebrew; so I'm quite sure that those secrets are safe with me for the time being."§ _Riddle hissed confidently as he returned to his book and continued to read more on ancient wandlore.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**November 9, 1991**

The week after the troll incident was marked by a sharp decline in temperature as the weather turned bitterly cold, the mountains around the school became an icy gray and the water of the lake turned into frosty steel that snatched the air out of your chest. The morning illuminated the frost covered ground and reflected a sea of shiny ice crystals that glistened in the soft rosy light of the dawn.

The quidditch season had begun and Wood had stepped up their training though he had prevailed to keep their sessions as low key as possible so no one but the Gryffindor team had come to discover just how good of a player Iris was.

So the team's secret weapon had stayed a secret just as they had intended it to be, the cat would be out of the bag after today though. Their first game was against Slytherin and Iris had every intention of going full out in the match today, with her inheriting Harry's skill there would be no difficulty in taking a victory today.

The only issue she had was that her new found friends were in Slytherin and she really didn't want to damage her friendship with them over a silly thing like Quidditch, as much as she loved the sport. But Draco and Daphne had told her that if she didn't give it her best they would be expressly angry at her; which had been all the incentive she needed to bring her A game.

She had descended to the Great Hall in her casual attire since it was a Saturday and had tucked into her breakfast heartily, it wasn't the fry up she was used to having on such a day; but since she was going to be flying for the next couple of hours the grease probably wasn't a good idea.

Instead she had settled on a simple oatmeal with toast, the carbs would keep her energized for the upcoming game. While she was eating she was getting encouraging quips from her friends and Daphne had even swung by the Gryffindor table despite the many evil eyes to give her friend a hug for good luck.

At eleven, the whole school had packed into the stands around the pitch and Iris was in the locker room along with the rest of the team. The locker room was divided into two halves, one side for the men the other for the women; so alongside the chasers, Iris changed into her uniform.

She had stuck her casual weekend clothes into her locker and pulled on the familiar black leotard and tights that the team wore under their gear, the tight clothing was enchanted to keep them warm on such cold days as this but not too hot that they would be passing out from heat exhaustion.

Over the skin tight apparel they buckled on their protective pads, foam pads over the thigh and a hard ceramic styled breastplate to guard their upper bodies from blows to the ribs or spine. Over the pads came the white trousers with the leather greaves over the shins and knees, as well as the maroon and gold tunics and their accompanying bracers and gloves.

Of course of all the protective equipment, Iris' were the thinnest and lightest of them all; less for protection than to give the semblance of protection she knew. It wasn't a very comforting thought really so she put it out of her mind as she slipped on her robes and grabbed her broom, falling into the line beside the chasers.

Alicia gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "No worries Iris, leave the bludgers to the twins and the scoring to us; just keep an eye out for the snitch and when we give you the sign just do your thing." The elder girl said to her as Wood moved to stand in front of the team.

"Okay men," he began, puffing out his chest and drawing himself to his full height to appear as confident as possible.

"And women." Angelina cut in with a pointed look that left Wood looking slightly embarrassed but he nodded his head and continued on.

"And women," he agreed, "This is it!" Wood resumed once again but it appeared he was doomed as the twins got in on the speech.

"The big one," said Fred while George picked up with, "The one we've all been waiting for!"

Oliver looked decidedly crestfallen now as Fred smirked as he looked down at Iris, "We know Oliver's speech by heart, we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two!" Wood said as he stepped forward, "We're going to win this, I know it! This is our time, so good luck to you all!" His eyes were blazing determinedly as Iris simply nodded her head with the team chorusing his words with affirmatives.

The team marched out of the locker room and onto the pitch, Iris took in the sight for the first time with her own eyes and she smiled to herself at the rush of emotion that filled her. Looking over at the sea of crimson that was Gryffindor, she could make out the banner at the top of the stands that said "Potter for Minister" with a roaring lion underneath it with the colors shifting every few moments.

But there was definitely a difference in this universe that hadn't been there in Harry's; there was another skybox in the stands and as Iris peered up into it curiously she could make out a familiar shade of red hair and an unruly mop of black hair.

Turning to glance at Wood, the Captain was smiling at the girl, "Yeah, forgot to mention that; parents of the quidditch players are invited to attend the games. We didn't want to put any pressure on you but it looks like the surprise is out now."

Iris was of half a mind to smack the Keeper but the other half of her wanted to hug him in excitement, in any case the decision was out of her hands when Madam Hooch pointed at both of the Quidditch captains calling them up to join her in the middle of the field while the rest of the team lined up on the pitch.

"Alright, I want a clean game from all of you!" Hooch said looking fixedly at the Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint. "Mount your brooms, please."

Iris swung her leg over her Nimbus Two Thousand, stroking the wooden shaft of her broomstick affectionately; the golden lettering jumping brightly at the contrast from the reddish brown wood.

Madam Hooch gave a blast of her whistle to start the game and Iris shot up into the air at a near perfect vertical ascent that put her way above the pitch so that she could begin her search pattern for the snitch and observe the game while Lee Jordan called out the play by play.

"The Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too…"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

It seemed that Jordan wouldn't be getting away much with his commentary in this lifetime either with McGonagall keeping a close ear on what the boy was saying.

Angelina was shooting across the pitch with Alicia flanking her to the right and Katie on her left; as they approached the hoops Angelina passed the Quaffle over to Alicia who dropped her altitude to hide underneath the leading Chaser.

As they drew closer, Alicia threw the ball up into the air in a pass back to Angelina at the last second to throw off the Slytherin Keeper at the last second and the lead Chaser launched the ball towards an open hoop.

"- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains possession and off he goes"

The troll like Fifth year was crossing the pitch with his fellow Chasers leading in front of him to protect him while the Gryffindor Chasers followed up behind them.

The Slytherins peeled off as Marcus shot for one of the hoops and looked like he was going to score before Wood seemed to drop out of the air and knocked the ball downwards into Katie's hands as she snatched the Quaffle out of the air.

Banking upwards sharply, Katie turned her broom around and the dove to pick up speed, shooting past Flint who had been pulling up to meet her. She weaved up the field on her own as Alicia and Angelina separated to draw off the Slytherin Chasers.

"OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger!"

Iris winced as her teammate was clipped by one of the iron balls, the impact threw her forward and she lost her hold on the ball as it fell from her hands.

Adrian Pucey sliced across the field and cut the Quaffle as it was falling, turning his broom he advanced towards the Gryffindor rings but was stopped as a second Bludger sent by one of the Weasley twins slammed into the boy's gut.

Angelina reappeared on the scene as she snatched the Quaffle from the winded boy's arms with a clear field ahead of her; she ducked to the left to avoid a Bludger and drew on the goal posts, she faked a toss to the left hoop and forced Bletchley to dive but she slipped to the right and tossed the Quaffle through the exposed central ring.

"GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Cheers went up around the pitch while howls and moans arose from the gathered Slytherin fans.

Above the action of the game, Iris was hovering over the game looking for some sign of the Snitch through her prescription strength goggles; Wood had gotten them specifically for her since her eyes had a tendency to water up when she went into her steep dives. Plus there was no risk of them falling off her face if she had to dodge suddenly or got hit by anything.

She was watching for the Snitch but her eyes followed the game and the commentary going on below her while the Slytherin Seeker circled the pitch across from her obviously looking as intently as she was for the golden sphere.

Adrian Pucey was driving up the field again with the Quaffle, he dodged one… then the second Bludger in short order, weaved around the Weasley twins, and ducked under Katie but pulled back sharply and lost his hold of the Quaffle as a flash of gold shot across the bridge of his nose and past his left ear.

Iris saw it and immediately stooped to go after the streak of gold, her counterpart Terence Higgs was barreling down right along after her and quickly pulled up alongside her as they went for the Snitch.

The race must have been impressive as the two dove and challenged each other since the Chasers had frozen in play to watch the two.

Iris knew how to fly though; she flattened herself against the shaft of the broom and pushed her broom forward outpacing the bigger and heavier Higgs and she could make out the fluttering wings of the Snitch before she felt the jarring impact against the rear of her broom that spun her out of control.

Iris gripped the broom tightly and recovered quickly but she had lost sight of the Snitch and from the way Higgs was pulling up on his broom to ascend back to the top of the pitch he had lost it as well. The Gryffindor Seeker gave Flint the finger as she ascended back upwards as the screams of "Foul!" roared through the air.

Lee Jordan was spluttering over the commentary, "After that obvious and disgusting foul –"

"Jordan!" McGonagall warned sharply cutting into the boy's words.

"I mean, after the open and revolting foul – "

"_Jordan, I'm warning you…" _McGonagall growled at the boy, though whether the woman was upset at his commentary or just angry at the foul and taking it out on the boy was unknown. She had been a Quidditch player for Gryffindor in her youth after all.

"All right, all right! Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker and Gryffindor gets a penalty shot by Alicia Spinnet, who puts it away with no trouble and we continue play, Gryffindor in possession."

Iris was scanning the pitch once more looking for the Snitch, dodging a Bludger that had streaked right at her; she felt her broom give a lurch and the girl couldn't believe it. It was the exact feeling that Harry's broom had given when it had been jinxed, but she wasn't even marked in this universe; why in the hell would Quirrel be trying to take her out.

Looking at Wood, Iris gave him the sign for a time out just as her broom went completely out of her control and began jerking through the air, violently swishing from side to side in an effort to unseat her.

With the Keeper distracted by his Seeker's out of control broom he missed the throw that Flint scored but quickly called timeout as he pointed up at the young girl on her broomstick, alerting everyone to the problems going on above their heads.

Iris could hear the shrill blow of the whistle as Madam Hooch called the timeout as her broom began rolling in the air against her will; she hooked her ankles and squeezed the shaft with her knees, taking the broom in a death grip to keep herself from being thrown off.

Iris looked around sharply at the family skybox and she could see her mother standing, her hand clutching her father's arm while the two of them stared at her fixedly muttering under their breath while Liatris simply watched her sister with frightened eyes.

A look at the teacher's skybox and Iris saw the unblinking eyes of Severus as he also was muttering under his breath, combating the jinx while Quirrel stared at her fixedly. Riddle wasn't looking at her but instead scanning the crowd looking for the person that was trying to kill her, unfortunately with Quirrel sitting almost directly in front of him and nearly everyone staring up at her and muttering in shock that was a difficult job.

The Weasley twins had tried getting close to her but as the approached her broom had jumped harshly and risen by feet to keep them away from her and she had lost her footing, leaving her dangling from the broom as she gripped it tightly. After that they had taken to circling beneath her hoping to catch her if she fell while yelling up at her that she was going to be okay.

Harry had been, but that had been because Hermione had spotted Snape muttering the counter-jinx and thought he was cursing the broom; she had knocked into Quirrel accidentally and broken the effort.

But with Snape actually looking out for Iris in this universe and treating her fairly (which was something that none of the other Gryffindors got) it was unlikely that Hermione would consider him to be the threat.

On the other hand, maybe Hermione wasn't meant to be her savior this time around; Iris watched as she spotted Neville moving through the teacher's stands, jostling Quirrel and 'stumbling' into Professor Snape.

With the curse unable to complete its work, the broom ceased vibrating and once more responded to her commands. Flexing her wrists, Iris forced the broom to go vertical and she wrapped her legs around the broom and quickly back looped the broom so that she was sitting appropriately on the wooden instrument.

Looking over at the teacher's skybox, she watched as Snape and Riddle were giving Neville a blistering talking to and that Quirrel was desperately holding onto his turban and making his way out of the stands. Heaving a sigh of relief, Iris gave Wood a thumbs up that she was good and the Keeper nodded his head and breathed a bit easier.

The Weasley twins came up on either side of Iris and flanked her as she headed for the goal posts, "Oye Iris, why don't we take this to the ground, eh? We'll get another match, no worries." Fred was saying as they leveled off in front of their Captain and the three female Chasers were nodding their heads in agreement.

"Nah, someone was definitely trying to throw me off my broom! I'd rather finish this game and give them two more opportunities then calling it quits now and give them a third one too!" Iris said sharply, the point she made was a good one and the team couldn't help but agree with that assessment.

"If you're sure Iris…" Wood trailed off as he looked at his Seeker giving her an opportunity to back out if she was having second thoughts. He was not expecting her knowing smile, as she looked down at her sleeve that was clenched to her thigh and he could make out movement in the folds.

"I'll be damned, you've got it!" Wood gasped but schooled his expression quickly as he nodded to Madam Hooch and yelled, "We're going to play on!"

The woman looked at the Gryffindor team as though they were insane but it was their call, so she simply nodded her head and blew the whistle as the team pulled away from each other and Iris rose back into the air.

"Looks like Gryffindor is going to play on despite Potter's broom troubles, we can only hope that they know what they're doing; and it looks like Potter has spotted the snitch, she's diving into the maintenance trenches!"

Iris had executed her signature "Stop and Stoop" move, rotating her entire broom over the tip of the shaft so that she was perfectly vertical and facing the ground as she dived straight down and disappeared into the maintenance trenches on the edge of the pitch.

The entire pitch was held aloft by a series of long wooden stilts and beneath the turf that everyone could see was a large empty chasm in which water could drain into during the exceptionally rainy games so that the pitch didn't flood.

It took a skilled flyer to maneuver down there, dodging the numerous pylons that stuck out at all angles; but it was a fantastic place to get away from the eyes of the spectators. She weaved her way through the underground for a bit until she was sure that she was alone before she pulled her hand back into her sleeve where she had caught the Snitch when she executed that midair back flip after regaining control of her broom.

Grabbing hold of the golden Snitch, she thrust her hand in front of her as she pulled up and back into the pitch proper, holding the sphere over her head as she alighted on the green turf in the center of the field. A look around showed that the Slytherins were a man down, so Higgs had probably followed her down into the underground and gotten knocked off his broom.

"And there you have it ladies and gentleman! Gryffindor has taken the game, one hundred and ninety to twenty! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

It only took a moment for Iris' teammates to settle on the pitch around her and surround her in a crushing embrace. A few minutes later she could hear the familiar voices of her family as they pushed through the growing crowd and they joined in on the celebratory hugging and cheering for their daughter.

Iris wrapped her arms around her parents and her younger sister as they enveloped her in a group hug, the Snitch still gripped firmly in her hands. Pulling back she stared up into her father's proud but concerned gaze, her mother was openly crying but she was still smiling proudly, and Liatris was just staring in awe at her older sister.

"Sorry if I scared you guys, I don't know what was going on with my broom; it's never done that before." Iris apologized though she knew there was no point to, it hadn't been her fault and her father waved it away as he enveloped her in a bone crushing hug.

"None of that baby girl, you didn't do anything wrong! Hell, you won the game; I'd say you did quite a lot right!" The man said proudly as he set the girl down before she could complain of lack of oxygen. Lily nodded in agreement with James, "He's right sweetheart, it wasn't anything you did! I'm so proud of you, that was a marvelous game!"

Liatris was practically bouncing in excitement, "That was brilliant Iris! You were amazing up there! I can't wait to come to Hogwarts!" The younger girl was saying enthusiastically as the crowd began to bleed off and return to the castle.

Iris' friends were hanging around the edge of the pitch and watching the girl with a mixture of concern and elation, though her Slytherin friends were trying to hide their amusement but were failing miserably; except for Blaise who could easily keep a straight face if he was handed a billion galleon check.

"Hey Mom, Dad; these are my friends. You already know Draco and Daphne, but these are Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini!" Iris introduced them with a happy smile as she waved them over to meet her family.

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><p>Riddle burst into the Quirrel's study to find the man carefully wrapping his turban around his head; shutting the door behind him harshly, the DADA instructor erected a series of powerful wards and silencing spells before he rounded on the Muggle Studies professor.<p>

Grabbing the man by the shoulder, he slammed the smaller man against the wall forcefully smashing the man's face into the mirror he was using and cracking the silvered glass. "What the hell was that about Quirrel! Do you realize that even if you weren't suspected before, you most certainly are now!" Tom barked enraged by the man's stupidity, though his voice did not rise as one would have expected.

No his voice dropped into an icy whisper, his fury was chillingly cold and his obsidian eyes were ablaze with garnet as he gazed into the other man's blank brown eyes through the shattered mirror. Grabbing the turban from the man's head he pulled it away to reveal the back of the man's head and the second face that was there.

Stretching forward and defining itself was the remainder of Gellert Grindewald; the shade of the Dark Lord that had existed as one of the most powerful and feared sorcerers in recent history. "You fool! What were you thinking!" Tom hissed as he pinned Quirrel to the wall by the back of his neck, wishing that he could throttle his onetime partner instead.

"What was I thinking! Look at yourself! Enraged over a mere child!" Grindewald spat back, ultramarine eyes piercing obsidian and garnet studded eyes with contempt and disgust.

"She has made you weak Riddle! We cannot abide such weakness if we plan to restore me to my rightful body and reclaim this place for our rightful rule!" The shade continued its ire growing as it looked at the mask of Voldemort, of his apprentice.

"She is the key to your resurrection Grindewald! You have not been around the child and do not know my machinations for her! Longbottom is infatuated with the girl, her magic is incredibly strong, and she's Dark!" Riddle whispered as his grip tightened on Quirrel's neck, squeezing so powerfully that Grindewald feared that his servant's neck would break before the hand eased and released.

Quirrel sank to his knees and his hands rose to his head to stem the blood that was coming from his cut forehead while Grindewald pondered the new information that he had been given. Admittedly, now that he knew this information she was obviously more useful as a living asset then when he had simply considered her a pet of Riddle's.

"Well this changes everything then, but how Dark is she Riddle?" Grindewald inquired his interest piqued by the information that had been revealed.

Riddle turned his back on the Dark Lord and quietly seethed at the man's incompetence, for a man who had quite nearly taken control of Europe he was incredibly stupid sometimes, unable to see beyond his own plans.

"She's as Dark as one can be without breaking the Rule of Sanctity, but she will; every time she tastes my magic, every time she comes into contact with a Dark object or creature her magic compels her to taste more. It will only be a matter of time before she breaks the Rule, and when she does there will be a Reckoning like the world has never seen before."

These words were spoken almost reverently, and when Riddle turned to look at Grindewald his eyes were completely red, the color of aged blood and his pupils had become snake-like slits. Voldemort was in those eyes and Grindewald shivered with Quirrel's body.

"By the Lady! I await that day, but she must be guided Voldemort; as you were my apprentice, so must she be yours!" Grindewald said his eyes seeing a future that he had dreamed of since he was but a boy.

He did not see Voldemort's gaze darken with rage, he only the heard the quiet affirmative; "Yes Grindewald, she will be guided to a glorious future." Riddle left the room as soon as he had composed himself, leaving Quirrel to straighten himself out and set his study back into order.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So what did you guys think of this chapter? So far you guys have been really patient with me so I wanted to give you a little treat on where I'm taking this storyline but it's just a taste of what's to come much further down the road.

**Next Chapter: **_Yuletide, More Quidditch, and maybe everyone's favorite pet dragon_


	7. Chapter VI

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed my previous chapters, you serve as my source of motivation to push ever forward with this story. For some of you, I hope you enjoyed your Spring Break; I had the pleasure of going to Washington D.C. over the break, so thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter to arrive.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter VI**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**December 20, 1991**

Winter was settling in, the weeks since the Quidditch game with Slytherin had brought increasingly colder days and at some point in mid-December Hogwarts had woken up to snow covered grounds and a frozen over lake.

The Weasley twins had gotten into trouble for enchanting several snow balls to continuously pelt Professor Quirrel on the back of the head, and with Iris' knowledge of Harry's memories she couldn't help but find the implications of that enormously funny.

The school children had filled the afternoons after their classes with playing out in the snow or in Iris' case getting a seventh year to transfigure an old pair of trainers and some steak knives into ice skates so that she could skate on the lake.

There was a certain release to ice skating, a fluidity of movement that could not be duplicated anywhere else; it was as close to flight as one could get. Not the flight of broomsticks, which while exhilarating, was confined to the broomstick; but the freedom of flight that only the birds knew and that was what Iris found on the ice.

Alas, the days were becoming shorter and as daylight faded the students of Hogwarts retreated from the cold, white landscape to the relative warmth of the castle; where once chilled extremities seemed to be filled with molten fire as feeling returned to numbed hands and feet and through their wind bitten faces.

While the Common Rooms and gathering areas of the castle were warm and cozy with their blazing fireplaces; the hallways were cold and drafty, it was not uncommon to see small clumps of snow in the corridors and where the snow melted the winds had chilled it into thin sheets of ice. Madam Pomfrey had been kept rather busy with a slew of children who had gotten injured by slipping or gotten sick from exposure to the elements.

The students had discovered that the very worst of locations was down in the dungeons, while Draco had assured Iris that the Slytherin Common Room was quite comfortable; having fireplaces arranged in each corner of the room to keep it warm and toasty, it made little difference in the Potions classroom that was abhorrently frigid.

The only thing that made the classroom bearable was the fact that Iris' robes had been ensorcelled with a warming charm and the fact that she was huddled with her blonde cousin around the fire that their cauldron sat upon but their breath still misted in the air as they exhaled and she was constantly rubbing her hands together to keep them from going numb.

Iris had discovered that Potions class was not so terrible when Professor Snape wasn't trying to torture you and while the man was known to play favorites with his Slytherins and made life nearly unbearable for the other Houses, Gryffindors in particular, he had let Iris slide unscathed.

Perhaps that had been the reason that she was doing exceedingly well in the class, well working with Draco helped considering that the Potions Master was his godfather and having someone on one lessons with a man as skilled as Snape would undoubtedly leave its mark, but it didn't change the fact that she had developed a knack for the subtle art of brewing and her instincts for it were good.

In this particular class for instance they were brewing a Cold Curing Concoction; a simple formula that needed no further explanation as to what it did. It was a straightforward potion to make, switching temperature at the appropriate times, moving it off and over the flames when adding certain ingredients and ultimately just following the directions that were written on the board in Snape's spidery script.

Towards the end of the brewing, Iris and Draco were looking at a livid pink fluid with the composition and texture of clotted cream and all that was needed was for them to stir the potion until it had even out into a smoother texture. But Iris had felt a nagging, not one that had come from Harry's memories but more of a gut feeling and she had looked at the table beside them while Draco was stirring.

The boy looked at her frustrated expression with a raised eyebrow, "Iris, you look like you're about to flip the table because it did something wrong. What's the matter?"

"I don't know, I have the feeling that we're missing something; but we followed the instructions exactly and there isn't anything in the book about another step!" Iris said as she ran a hand through her hair as she narrowed her eyes at the pink potion like it was mocking her.

Draco gave her a curious stare but nodded his head as though he was used to this kind of reaction, "Check my kit, it's a bit more filled out then yours is; pays to have a Potions Master as a tutor right?"

Iris looked at the boy skeptically but circled the table to rummage through his kit, unsure what she was looking for until she found it; she triumphantly extracted a small pouch of menthe leaves. Taking out a pinch of the strong smelling leaves Iris added them into the potion as Draco stirred them in and turned the fluid into bright neon pink and the texture softened into a watery blend with a refreshing scent.

The change didn't go unnoticed as Professor Snape descended upon them, he plucked the bag from Iris' hand gently and pulled out a pinch of the leaves before looking at the raven haired girl, "Miss Potter, would you like to explain to me why you have decided to add an ingredient that wasn't listed in the instruction?" The question came out softly, and there wasn't any malice that Iris could detect so she decided to answer honestly.

"I'm not sure Professor, I told Draco that I felt the potion was missing something and he offered to let me search through his kit. When I found the menthe leaves, I just _knew_ that I needed to add them." Iris replied and half expected Snape to explode at her for her unfounded compulsion; but he didn't, instead he just nodded approvingly.

"Those are some very strong potioneer instincts you have their Miss Potter, I do recall your mother having the same trait. While menthe leaves due increase the curative properties of the potion, it also increases the potency of the Cold Curing Concoction; so it is only used in the more extreme cases when the risk of phenomena is apparent." Snape said with just a touch of pride in his voice, and Iris couldn't help but brighten under the praise.

"Five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin, for an exceptional potion." Snape said as he set the packet of leaves back into Draco's kit and turned around to continue examining the rest of the classes work. Of the class, only three more student pairs were successful in producing the rich pink and creamy texture that indicated a correct brewing, a few more achieved weaker strength potions with the rest of the class failing to produce the potion correctly.

As they were leaving the class, Iris had been allowed to keep a vial of her extra-strength potion; not because of any prevailing need for the liquid but rather because she was proud of having done the work well. Having hung behind after the class to fill the vial, her Slytherin companions had left without her; but Hermione had waited behind for her.

As they exited the classroom, the girl slipped it into her bag while the clever bushy haired girl was trying to figure out how to maneuver around a giant fir tree that was in the way, apparently being supported by two massive feet.

"Hello Hagrid, would you care for any help?" Hermione asked the half-giant, Iris looked at the brunette with a raised eyebrow, she could appreciate her desire to help but really what could she have done to help him move an object that sized at her age.

"Nah, thanks for the offer though Hermione." Hagrid replied sounding slightly out of breath, not that one could blame him; he was carrying a tree through the castle…

"Oh, how cute is that! The _mudblood _is sucking up to that oaf!" The words were practically dripping with venom and Iris could see Hermione's back stiffen at the derogatory term; there was even a muted gasp from the gamekeeper at the use of the word.

Iris turned towards the origin of the scathing remark and was unsurprised to see the pug-like face of Pansy Parkinson; the girl was as ever neatly composed but it was apparent that no matter how much effort she put into her images, she would never be attractive.

Not with how spoiled and rotten she was, it was almost an affront to the laws of nature that she wasn't in a leprosy colony; but that would be more cruelty than those poor people should ever have to deal with.

"Careful Parkinson, I've already broken one nose this year; I wouldn't mind adding a second to my tally before we usher in the New Year." Iris growled icily at the Slytherin, who had the common sense to actual pale at the threat.

Unfortunately, it seemed her mouth moved faster than her brain could filter; "You wouldn't dare Potter! What is an heiress like you doing with filth like that, anyway!" It was evident by the look on her face that she was regretting her words further stoked the Seeker's ire.

"If I'm filth, than you're the scum underfoot _Pansy!_ I wasn't born into the magical world or to privilege but at least I have made the effort to learn… you've got the intelligence of a concussed troll!" Hermione spat back angrily, although her anger was much more frightening than Iris'.

With Iris, you got the heat and fury; but Hermione was cold, controlled, the kind of anger that resembled an early winter freeze. It invited you to walk over the ice right until it cracked under you and you were plunged into the water with no chance of getting out.

The Slytherin assailant faltered in whatever insult she was trying to retort with when she looked at Hermione in apparent shock, the hesitation was all Hermione needed to engulf the girl in that deathly cold grip as the ice broke.

"Now if you so much as think of using _that_ word again and I promise you Parkinson… you won't like the outcome. Not. One. Bit." Hermione sounded out each word as she glared maliciously at the other girl, who could only widen her eyes at the brunette's words.

For all that could be said of Pansy Parkinson, she at least had a decent enough survival instinct to know when to back down; unfortunately the same could not be said for her heavy set bodyguard Millicent Bulstrode.

While it would be unfair to call the girl stupid since she wasn't particularly dim witted, her biggest issue was that fact that she saw the world in a light where the biggest and toughest dominated the fight. And she would be right if one were talking about a barroom brawl.

To her misfortune, she would have to be educated that in a world with magic; it was the clever that thrived and not the brawny. So when Millicent stepped forward to respond to the threat and muttered; "Better watch that tone Mudblood, show some respect when your betters are talking at you."

It was not surprising when Hermione whipped out her wand and transfigured some of the needles on the fir tree's boughs into actual sewing needles, like they had learned in Transfiguration, which pricked the girl's arm and caused her to recoil sharply. Losing her footing, the heavy set girl feel backwards and toppled over crushing Pansy and Tracey Davis under her bulk.

A quick "Finite" from Hermione reversed the transformation and she quickly pocketed her wand as Snape burst from the dungeons and saw the mess of tangled limbs that his Slytherins were trying to untangle themselves from.

Iris was rather surprised at the brunette's quick response and her defense of herself; she wasn't sure why it should have surprised her. Perhaps because Harry remembered Hermione at this age as being an annoying know-it-all, but Iris had encircled the girl with confident pureblood heirs for friends and been fastidious with her friendship.

With people like Draco and Daphne for friends, it was no wonder that the timid little brunette had become more outspoken and self-reliant; traits she hadn't developed until she was much older in Harry's universe and shaped by her trials. Iris could only wonder what a confident and strong Hermione could accomplish when surrounded by likeminded peers, but it would be an exciting thing to see.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded sharply as his gaze settled over Iris for a moment before moving onto Hermione, it took only a glance at the three girls on the floor to know what the incident had been about.

"It weren't their fault Professor Snape, 'em girls were provoking Hermione. Then one of just slipped and knocked the rest over, gotta be careful round 'ere. Floors can get righ' slippy this time o' year." Hagrid said, the gamekeeper backing up the Gryffindors; though he had been blind to the actual events by the tree he was carrying, his ears were working perfectly fine.

Snape could not discredit the half-giant's words and even though these were his snakes, he couldn't prove that Hermione or Iris had done anything wrong; nor did he particularly want to. "Very well Hagrid, well girls if you need to see Madam Pomfrey I suggest you extricate yourselves from this mess and get on with it. Miss Granger, Miss Potter; if you have nowhere to be at the moment, I would suggest you accompany Hagrid to the Great Hall."

Knowing a dismissal when they heard it, the Gryffindor girls nodded their heads and followed behind the gamekeeper while Parkinson and her gang followed them with glares as they pulled themselves up from the cold stone floor of the Entrance Hall.

Stepping into the Great Hall, the two girls stood entranced by the decorations; Harry's memories had been grand but seeing it with your own eyes was like comparing a photograph of the sun to feeling the warmth of its rays and the stinging of the light against your eyes; in that there was no comparison.

Towering fir trees lined the hall and the Professors of Hogwarts were bequeathing them with laurels and ornaments, Flitwich conjured up golden spheres and hung them on the tree limbs while McGonagall wrapped them in shimmering ribbons. From within the shadows of the boughs, the trees shined forth with numerous tiny lights of all different hues that constantly shifted and winked.

Hagrid broke the spell as he looked down at the two girls with a smile, "So how long 'til the holidays fer y'two?" The man asked warmly, his beady black eyes shining with warmth and kindness as he roused the girls.

Hermione responded first, "Just one, the train arrives tomorrow to take us back to London." The girl replied with a hopeful expression on her face, it was obvious that she was excited to see her parents after being away from home for nearly four months; undoubtedly the longest she had ever been away from home.

Even Iris was excited to return home, she missed her parents dearly and it would be the first Yuletide with her family since her merge with Harry and she could feel the anticipation and excitement that dwelled deep inside her stemming from the part of the young man's consciousness that composed half of her own.

Hagrid could see that they were both bubbling over with enthusiasm at the prospect of returning back to their families, "Well then, I suppose yer won't be stayin' here at Hogwarts; can't says I blame yer wanting to be wit' family and all. Christmas at Hogwarts is somethin' right special though; I heard Ron and Neville will be stayin' 'ere so I suppose that they can tell yer all about it."

Iris smiled up at the man, she could tell that he wasn't just saying that to say it; he was hoping for some company over the break. It must be lonely out in his shack with no one but Fang to keep him company with the majority of students leaving; she would make it a point to send him a gift so that he knew he was thought of.

Wrapping her arms around the man's massive thighs, Iris gave the man a fond hug and looked up at his surprised face, "We'll miss you too Hagrid; but it's only for a fortnight, we'll be back before you notice we're gone." Iris said with a smile as Hermione mirrored the hug around the man's other leg, the effect was apparent as his eyes got all misty with emotion and he patted the two girls affectionately on the heads, taking great care not to wallop them accidently.

They departed soon after both feeling quite pleased with themselves as they had made Hagrid happy, the Gryffindor girls climbed the stairs and headed for Gryffindor tower though they planned a stop at the library so Hermione could return the books she had checked out.

Unfortunately, despite Madam Pince's warmer disposition towards them, there was still less than a snowball's chance in hell of them taking a book out of Hogwarts for the break.

Ascending up to the floor quickly the two girls were making their way towards the library when they heard a familiar cackle from above them; without bothering to pause, Iris grabbed Hermione by the arm and pulled her into an alcove just as the spot they were in was doused with a balloon full of something that was most definitely not water.

It seemed Peeves was taking potshots since today would be the last time to pull anything on the students until they returned from their holidays. Taking off at a run the two girls dodged and weaved around the corridor as Peeves continued to torment them in his usual fashion, though thanks to Iris' skill as a Seeker and perhaps because Harry had gotten quite good at dodging curses, the two managed to avoid the balloons.

It seemed Peeves had gotten fed up with their avoidance tactics because he swooped low over them and heaved the largest balloon in his arsenal and he practically dropped it on top of their heads. Of course, Iris was having none of that so she once more tugged Hermione by the arm and dove into a room, pulling the brunette after and on top of her so she wouldn't get injured.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione shut the door behind them just as the balloon ruptured on the floor and there was the definite sound of liquid impacting the door as Peeves cackled on down the halls having had his fun.

"Damn poltergeist, one of these days I'm going to make a charm that'll stick him to the Bloody Baron!" Iris growled to herself as Hermione rolled off the raven haired girl, nodding her head in agreement. "If you want any help, let me know; I'd be quite pleased with giving him a bit of his own medicine."

Looking around the expanse of the room, Iris was struck by the familiarity of the stacked desks and as she cast her gaze over her shoulder she could make out the tall mirror that rose up to the ceiling of the old classroom. And she wasn't the only one to notice it; Hermione was looking at the silvered glass and it ornate framework curiously.

It struck Iris that Harry had never revealed the Mirror of Erised to Hermione, undoubtedly he had told her about it but by the time she had returned from the break it had already been moved to third floor and used as the final protection of the Philosopher's Stone.

The two girls approached the mirror carefully, Hermione examining the frame work closely as she read the inscription aloud, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." The brunette looked puzzled over the nonsensical gibberish before she took on a triumphant smirk.

"It's mirrored writing, 'I show not your face but your heart's desire.' That's what it really says!" The brunette said as she turned back to look at Iris who gave her a nod of confirmation as she read the inscription backwards herself.

"You're absolutely brilliant 'Mione." Iris praised her friend with a smile and gestured for her to take a look into the mirror since she had deciphered the inscription. Iris knew from Harry's memories what the mirror did, and that as she watched Hermione's reflection in the silvered glass she would not be able to see the girl's deepest desire.

But she could see Hermione's eyes go wide as she reached out to touch the glass, "I'm older and Head Girl; top of the class and you're right beside me Iris! We've passed all our N.E.W.T.'s and we're being asked to join the Ministry! I'm older still, I'm sitting at the Head Table; I'm a Professor!" Hermione was beaming radiantly at the image the mirror reflected, "I'm old now, like McGonagall but I'm still at the Head Table… only I'm not where I was before, I'm in the middle! I'm Headmistress of Hogwarts!"

Iris smiled at her friend, it was fairly obvious that the brunette's aspirations were great and it was a pleasure to see the girl so extremely happy at the prospect of what she saw. They both knew that the mirror was only giving Hermione a reflection of what she wanted, but there was no reason why she couldn't achieve those desires.

Hermione backed away from the mirror, casting one more look over her shoulder at it; undoubtedly there were more images that the mirror held for the girl but they would be personal and Iris wouldn't pry into those affairs.

Instead she smiled at Hermione and stood in front of the mirror herself; she was curious to see what her own desires were. Harry had been a child when he had looked into the mirror and his greatest desire was to have known his parents and to have been loved by them.

Iris had two loving parents, a sister she loved, her godfather and his family, and Remus to call her family; she knew she was loved and she wanted for nothing, Harry's innocent desires had been satisfied.

But he was an adult when he had merged with Iris and even now the eleven year old body had the thoughts of a much older persona, she could see beauty and appreciate history in ways that she couldn't before. She could look at a person and find their features attractive or their personalities were wanting.

Thoughts like that were not typical to the stage of physical development she was in, and she knew that her body would not react to those thoughts for some time to come. But she had them, and she could only imagine what her adult desires would be now that she was awake to them but incapable of acting upon them.

So as she stood her ground before the mirror she watched as scenes began to take shape around her reflection. At first the images were hazy and unclear but they soon drew themselves into clear relief and the image that was reflected left her terribly confused as pride, happiness, and trepidation washed through her in a giant flood of emotion that left her standing weak kneed and shivering from a sudden cold that gripped her spine.

There in the silvered glass was an image of her, later in life; gowned in robes of midnight so dark that when light shown upon them the threads glistened with reds and purples, blues and greens in thousands of different shades that the human eye could not comprehends. This older Iris was regal, powerful; she exuded a serene and unshakable calm that drew all attention to her with a single finger raised into the air.

Behind her and to the left were her parents smiling proudly at their daughter and besides them were Siruis and his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, the Lord and Lady Greengrass , a couple she did not know but bore a striking resemblance to Hermione and a tall beautiful women with dark olive skin that coukd only be Blaise's mother.

On her right were Hermione, Draco, Blaise, and Daphne; each one was older in dressed in clothing more suited for battle then for an audience in the majestic hall that Iris saw the mirror reflecting but each was striking and it was apparent that they belonged there.

Just behind the four were Liatris, Pollux, and strangely enough Remus; these three looked less regal than the other four standing there but it also struck her that the seven assembled all had the look of people who had earned their place and were watching on the events with hard eyes.

Before her kneeling were the bowed forms of Dumbledore, marked by his silver hairs and flamboyant robes; Grindewald who could not be identified by his face but by the Deathly Hallows stitched across the back of his robes; and lastly Voldemort with his too pale flesh, serpentine features, and red slit eyes.

The older Iris looked down at them triumphantly and that was when Iris noticed the small crown in her counterpart's hair. Why was she wearing a crown? Why were the three most powerful wizards of the century kneeling before her? What had she done to earn their submission?

The questions just kept mounting and Iris broke her gaze from the mirror and took two steps away from it to clear the image of the reflected image before she paused, she felt something instinctual telling her to look back at the glass but she didn't know if she dared; didn't know if she wanted to know what her greatest desire was or what it meant.

"Ah, it seems that you two have discovered the Mirror of Erised. By the puddle of ectoplasm outside the door I can only assume you ducked in here to avoid one of Peeves' more sticky pranks." The voice was soothing, old and full of wisdom; or that was what it would have sounded like if Iris was paying attention to the Headmaster who stood at the threshold of the room.

Hermione however was quick to respond to Dumbledore, "Yes Headmaster, we didn't mean to intrude but we were just trying to get away from that poltergeist." The brunette said quietly casting a worried glance at Iris was still by the mirror and half turned away from it, obviously distressed by what she had seen.

Dumbledore was quick to notice the other girl's state as well and his face took on the concerned look that a grandfather, "Come away from the mirror child; tell me what it is you see."

Iris half expected to feel a wave of compulsion thread through her but it didn't come, whether that meant the old sage was genuinely concerned or simply didn't see any way this figured into his machinations the girl nodded but swallowed heavily.

She cast one last look over her shoulder at the mirror, seeing the same image as before though her reflection was staring back at her; the older woman had a faint smile that transformed the regal woman into someone considerably more human.

The woman was seated in a massive and ornate throne of silver that was carved with so many images it was hard to differentiate what was there; but beside the throne was another just as massive although considerably less elaborate, but seated there was a familiar face.

The man wore an expression she had never seen before and there was a look in his eye that defied her comprehension; a raw mixture of emotions that no effort had been taken to hide. He was completely open if only to Iris' gaze, she doubted anyone else could have read anything from that man's eyes. The man nodded at her, a slight but genuine smile was playing on the edges of his lips as he turned to her reflected image, rising from his throne and pulling the older Iris out from her seat and holding her in his arms.

And she watched as the man planted such a searing passionate kiss on the woman that was so regally dressed that Iris was forced to turn away flushing hotly, feeling as though she had been intruding on something extremely intimate. But she felt a happy warmth in her gut and she couldn't help the smile that pulled at her features as she stepped away from the mirror with a much different reaction to the first image.

Dumbledore noticed immediately and he raised in eyebrow in curiosity at the young girl's flushed face and the way her hands were fiddling nervously as she ran her fingers together in embarrassment at the Headmaster's expectant face. Even Hermione saw the changed expression and was decidedly interested in her friend's reaction, but she knew she had seen a few things in the mirror that she wasn't going to share with anyone.

Iris looked at the two other occupants of the room and shook her head slightly, "I appreciate your concern Headmaster but what I saw was a bit too personal to share without getting to know you much better first." The girl said with look that told him he wasn't going to be getting anything more out of her.

The wizened Headmaster nodded his head as he stood aside and allowed the two girls to leave but his gaze never left Iris, something about the girl piqued his interest and she continued to be an enigma that he could not unravel. What he did know was that she was strong with the potential to become powerful, and that meant she was worth the time and energy to recruit.

As the two girls walked down the hall arms linked, Dumbledore knew that war was coming; it would only be a matter of time before Grindewald returned and with that Dark Lord's return would come the death and destruction that had been left unfinished a decade ago, and fifteen years before that.

He would pay any price to ensure the survival of the Greater Good, use any means; he just prayed that by the end of it all his sacrifices would be enough. But he suspected that with that Potter girl on his side that it would be, he just had to make sure she knew the right people to fight for and perhaps take out a little insurance to keep her on the right side.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**December 21, 1991**

Iris stood out on the Hogsmeade train platform, bundled up warmly in her winter cloak with its heating charm with Hermione tucked in under it; to ward off the bitterly cold wind that swept down from over the lake and into the town. While their bodies were quite toasty, both of their faces were chilled numbingly by the breeze, leaving their noses and cheeks reddened and their eyes watery as the air stole away moisture.

The scarlet train engine pulled into the station with a shrill cry as brakes clamped down on hot iron rotors and metal grinded on metal filling the air with the scent of something resembling burnt rubber as the hulking beast shuddered to a stop.

It took Iris little time as she lifted her feather light trunk and Hedwig's empty cage; the snow owl having flown ahead of them with a missive bearing what time the raven haired girl would arrive in London, to gather her items and climb aboard.

She took the opportunity to claim one of the larger compartments for herself and her friends knowing full well that she would be sharing the train ride with Draco and Daphne as well as Hermione, the possibility existed that Blaise, or some of her teammates might show up to join them and that ensured that a smaller compartment was simply too tiny for all of them.

The compartment was unlike the one that she had taken to Hogwarts with its two benches facing across one another with a window bisecting the small room; instead this compartment was considerably larger at the rear of the train, the benches making a U-shape with the door at the open section in the front. Two large windows were on opposite sides of the long portion of the room.

Hoisting her trunk above her head with an easy grace, she slid the leather case with its ornate fleur-de-lis emblazoned opposite the stylized lily flower onto the rack overhead. Hermione didn't have the benefit of thrice weekly quidditch practice to make her lean and wiry nor did she have a trunk that weighed next to nil; so Iris took the brunette's and heaved it up alongside her own before plopping into the comfortable seat across from the door.

Hermione sat down a little to her left and stretched languidly so Iris could turn sideways on the bench and lay her head down on the girl's lap which caused the bushy haired brunette to roll her eyes but she made no move to displace her raven haired friend.

Rather, she began to card her fingers through the untamable semi-curly, semi-wavy hair; seeking out the small tangles and knots that were bound to form and work them free. The sensation was deeply relaxing and Iris soon found herself staring up at her brunette friend through half lidded eyes, if she was a cat she would be purring contentedly.

"Hermione, if you keep that up she'll never let you stop." Came the familiar drawl of Draco as the platinum blond sauntered into the room with a mischievous smirk on his face. Iris gave the Malfoy heir a halfhearted glare as Hermione giggled, "I know Drake, I had the misfortune to play with her hair once while we were studying. Now whenever we're in the Common Room, her head is always in my lap!"

Draco gave her a pitying look, "You poor, poor child; you'll never be free of her now. Trust me, I know." The words were said with such sincerity that you would have thought he was mourning the passing of a friend but he took the weight out of the words with that smug little smirk of his.

Iris waved her hand at the boy lazily, "Shuddup Malfoy, I've got Hermione now; I no longer have need of your services, you may considered yourself relieved from duty." Iris put as much of an aristocratic and pompous air into her dismissal and it would have been rather convincing if she didn't look like the cat that got the cream.

The boy chuckled as he lifted his trunk into the racks overhead just as Daphne stepped into the large compartment; the honey blond heiress gave the room an approving nod and handed her trunk to Draco who stared at it askance for a moment before he folded under the Greengrass' pout. Taking her trunk off her hand, she rewarded him with a smile and a quick peck on the cheek before sitting at the corner of the U at Iris' feet.

"'Ello my lovely lionesses, I see Iris has found a new groomer in Draco's absence and she's practically _cat_atonic." Daphne emphasizing the first part of the word, to which Iris gave her best imitation of a purr which wasn't half bad since she had had a cat in her youth before Liatris had learned about pranks and scared the animal so bad that it had to be given to a neighbor of Aunt Petunia's.

That set the girls into a small fit of giggles and even Draco gave a snort of amusement, "Well since the Gryffindor Princess is being groomed, do you have any plans for Christmas Hermione?" Daphne asked, switching her point of interest to the brunette who was reading a book along with stroking Iris' hair.

"Yule actually, but no; I'll be staying at home with my parents since they've closed their offices for the winter break barring any emergencies that might crop up." Hermione responded without looking up from her book, it was fascinating how the girl could manage to pull off holding a conversation and reading simultaneously, but since her eyes were cast down and not at the heiress she missed the girl's startled expression.

"Pardon, but did you say you were celebrating Yule and not Christmas?" Draco asked, picking up the conversation from Daphne's shocked silence before the situation could become awkward and because he was rather interested in the girl's words as well. Neither of the blonds could see Iris' triumphant smirk from their positions.

Hermione hummed her affirmation as she raised the cover of the book she was reading to show the title of the book, 'Wizarding Rituals and Traditions' written in gold relief on the auburn leather. "The Princess here has been gracious enough to bestow upon me the traditions of the old faith." The brunette replied with a faint hint of amusement in her voice as she playfully picked up Daphne's title for Iris.

"I hated being ignorant of the wizarding world so I took it on myself to learn as much as I could; I hadn't even considered that there might be different beliefs and faiths than from the Muggle world. Ignorance of it just proves the bigoted purebloods right, Muggleborns lead to the deterioration of the old ways because they do not bother to learn them and instead introduce their own faiths into the system." Hermione continued to say as she looked up into the pleased face of Daphne and the steadily growing smirk the Draco was wearing.

"Hogwarts has a class for Muggle Studies for wizards to learn how to interact and blend with the non-magical community; but there isn't a class at Hogwarts for us Muggleborns to learn about the magical community. We're taught the spells and potions but none of the philosophy or theology; I refuse to remain ignorant!" Hermione said with an air of finality that left no room for questioning or second guessing her decision to learn.

"'Mione, you've gone and done it now…" Daphne said as her pleased look grew to wicked proportions, a Cheshire cat like smile splitting her face, "… you have got to come to the Greengrass Estate now! I was going to invite you regardless but since you're celebrating Yule you really must experience it properly; I already have the consent of Mother to extend invitations to the Houses of Malfoy, Potter and Zabini to join us on the evening of the twenty-fourth until the wee hours of the morning on the twenty-fifth."

The girl was obviously enthused and animated by the idea of having her friends over on such an auspicious day, especially since it would be the first time Hermione would be observing Yuletide and the traditional practices of celebrating the winter solstice, the winter feast and exchanging gifts with her peers. Probably more excited for the latter of the three then the first two, not that anyone could fault a child for being excited over presents or anyone else for that matter.

But as if mentioning his name had summoned him, Blaise Zabini stepped into the compartment with his trunk in hand. The young boy of Italian descent had olive skin and dark chestnut brown hair that was almost black in color but when the light hit the locks just right it turned alive with browns and reds. His eyes were a molten gold at present but lightened to honey when he was in a good mood or darkened to crystallized amber when he was angry.

He was slim and athletically built for an eleven year old, so he was obviously into some kind of physical activity but Iris didn't know the boy very well. He had become something of an acquaintance in recent weeks though Draco seemed to know the boy well, which was to say far better than the girls in the compartment because the boy was exceedingly quiet and reserved. Not because he was overly anti-social but rather because he was almost constantly brooding or mulling over the question.

He was a better chess player than even Draco was and although Iris had eight years of memories with Harry playing against Ron, more often than not she would lose to the Italian. Never spectacularly but their matches lasted for hours at a time with the boy undoubtedly taking into account every conceivable move before moving a piece on the board.

Blaise took a moment to look around the spacious compartment and nodded his head approvingly as he lifted his trunk up onto the rack beside Draco's and then sat himself on the opposite bench from the only other boy in the room but only nodded his head in silent greeting, but Iris was having none of that.

Instead she gave a feline stretch before rolling onto her side, her head still firmly in Hermione's lap and she fixed the boy with a stare that he met unblinkingly. "Hai una domanda o ti piace che mi fissava?" The dark haired boy asked with a raised eyebrow, his voice suave if slightly high pitched due to his age; which leant the notion that when he was older he would have a voice that would be able to knock a banshee silent to listen in.

Iris gave the boy a dark look, "Why can't it be both, you do have rather nice eyes after all?" Iris replied with a mischievous smile but it failed to get a rise out of the Italian. "You're no fun; I don't even know why Lady Greengrass extended you an invitation for Yuletide celebrations." Iris stated sulking, a definite pout on her face as the Italian gave a small smirk.

"Actually, Mother invited the House of Zabini; not Blaise specifically, more like his mother and immediate family which just so happens to be Blaise." Daphne stated offhandedly as she and Draco had taken up a small game of Exploding Snap and she was rather distracted.

It was of course common knowledge among the Wizarding families that Isabella Zabini had been married five times at present and each of her husbands had perished mysteriously, while she had never been implicated in any of the deaths and never out right accused of any foul play; it could not be argued that she had profited immensely from the deaths of each of her spouses.

On the other hand, Hermione was not of the magical community and had no knowledge of the stigma attached to the Zabini name, "I don't mean to be cavalier but I was under the impression that the patriarch of the family was 'in charge' in the pureblood society but Daphne only mentioned Mrs. Zabini." The brunette put in curiously, actually looking up to convey her sincere interest and a wary smile that she hoped would assuage any hurt feeling caused by her question.

Instead Blaise gave the brunette an ambivalent smile, which while exceedingly rare seemed to make the boy even more handsome; a shame that he didn't do it more often. "While it's true that in most pureblood families the household is 'ruled' by the patriarch, my household isn't what you would consider typical. There isn't really a patriarch in my family, in fact the name Zabini is mia madre's surname." He explained completely at ease with the conversation, though he didn't elaborate on the cause of the matriarchy of the family.

Iris had learned that the children of pureblood families or at least the heirs to pureblood fortunes were immersed in politics and manipulations seemingly from the cradle. Blaise's careful omission of the truth, Neville seeking allies at the sorting ceremony, Draco's posturing and Daphne's social attempts were all indicative of a higher level of expectation and awareness that played into the lives of the children.

It was no surprise that the purebloods wound up predominantly in Slytherin, cunning was as essential as breathing if you wanted to get through the machinations that sprung up around you; otherwise you wound up like Longbottom with a broken nose, or worse.

Hermione was sharp though, sharper than most actually, and she had caught the Italian's careful phrasing and she measured the boy with a calculating gaze. Whatever was going through her mind she obviously decided that it was not a good decision to delve further into the subject at present since she did not press for more information, instead she spelled out 'w-r-i-t-e m-e t-h-e s-t-o-r-y' against Iris' scalp.

Iris nodded and couldn't help but find her Hermione to be brilliant and just as cunning as any of the snakes in the compartment with them; she knew that she was a bad influence on the clever bookworm and that the Slytherin purebloods were just as corrupting, but she wouldn't trade this confident and clever brunette for the bossy know-it-all that Harry had befriended. As close as the girls were to their counterparts, they really were worlds apart.

The conversation settled into more mundane topics and with Hermione massaging Iris' scalp and playing with her hair it wasn't long before the raven haired Champion was out like a light and dozing comfortably.

* * *

><p>The first thing that Iris noticed when she was jolted awake was that she was no longer laying on her side with her head cushioned on Hermione's thigh, instead she found herself nestled into somebody's side with her head resting against their shoulder. She knew it wasn't Hermione because the brunette's hair always smelled like lavender and coconut.<p>

She was also fairly certain that it wasn't Draco because she knew him well enough that she could tell that the shoulder she was laying on was a bit broader and this boy didn't have the smell of sandalwood and honey. Actually, this boy smelled very different, exotic; there was the scent of the sea about him mixed with a sharp smell of spices and under all of it was a faint hint of cloves.

She could feel someone gently shaking her shoulder now obviously trying to rouse her from her nap, batting a hand lazily at the offender Iris tucked herself tighter against her new pillow, her head now lying over the person's chest as she could hear the steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his lungs.

. "Lemme alone, pillow smells good…" She mumbled drowsily which earned her a chuckle from her pillow, with her ear against the boy's chest she could her the beginnings of a rumble in the boy's chest as she was pulled away by her rouser.

"Come on Iris, don't want to leave your parents waiting for you on the platform do you?" Came Draco's familiar drawl, though she could hear the smile in his voice as she was pulled upright. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and blinked blearily at the mishmash of shapes and colors until Draco slipped her glasses onto her nose and the world came into focus.

Thanking her cousin she turned towards the only other male in the compartment, "You're comfy, I'll remember that for later." She said as she stood and patted him on the head still half asleep at this point. Her pronouncement earned more laughter and she smiled though a part of her knew that they were laughing at her loopy behavior, she was still too out of it to really care.

Instead she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and she could feel a brush going through her hair briskly, Iris knew that the task was doomed to failure; you could get out the knots and snarls but her hair would never be tamed. But the brushing did serve to wake her further as it snatched onto the tangles and worked them out with sharp jerks.

By the time Daphne pulled the brush away finally, Iris was completely awake and feeling refreshed from sleeping through the train ride. Looking around she could see that all of the trunks had been pulled down and were sitting in the middle of the compartment, hers had Hedwig's empty cage resting on top of it and her friends were stretching out to work out the kinks from having been seated through the ride.

"Told you she would sleep through a blizzard as long as she was against someone she knew." Draco was ribbing Blaise, the Italian was flexing his right hand and rubbing feeling back into the limb after Iris had fallen asleep against him.

"Why was I sleeping on Blaise? Don't get me wrong he's comfy; but I remember falling asleep on 'Mione." Iris questioned as she pulled the black ribbon that was tied around her wrist off and used it to pull her hair back into a tail to keep it out of her face. She didn't care to have the wind blowing it around and into her mouth when she greeted her family outside.

"Well 'Mione needed to use the loo but you wouldn't let her up, everytime she moved you hugged her legs and hissed something in your sleep. Blaise took pity on the girl 'cause me and Daphne couldn't breathe; once he picked you up you had him in a deathgrip and that was it." Draco informed her with a smirk as Daphne coughed into her hand politely covering her giggle.

Iris flushed slightly in embarrassment but she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing it so she stepped over to her trunk and lifted the case, resolutely making her way to the compartment door as her friends filed out behind her still tittering at her expense.

Stepping off the train, a lance of cold air sliced through her clothing and leeched the warmth from her body, tearing a gasp from her lips as she shivered fiercely. Drawing her cloak tighter to shield herself from the wind, Iris cleared the way while searching for her parents; a task that was eased by the excitedly jumping Liatris, the younger girl's dark red hair was bouncing about her head and the breeze caused it to fly about wildly.

The sight split Iris' face into a grin and she all but ran towards her little sister, although it was difficult to call the girl little at the moment since she was standing practically eye to eye with the girl. Still, as soon as she got close enough the redhead charged her giving her just enough time to set down her trunk before catching the girl as she wrapped her arms around her neck and her legs around her waist in a fierce hug.

Thankfully, Iris had the strength to support her sister's weight and she hugged the girl just as tightly in return before she felt a set of arms envelope her, and the siblings were hoisted up simultaneously by a pair of strong muscular arms. Looking past Liatris' fiery mane, she could see the happy face of James Potter as he held both of his daughters in his arms; with Lily standing by his side and smiling radiantly at her children.

James set the two girls down carefully and the siblings untangled themselves from one another's embrace before Iris wrapped her arms around her mother's waist and was in turn squeezed back just as fiercely as kisses were planted in her hair. As they separated, the family huddled close together in what Iris noticed was a warm pocket without any wind; a nifty spell that Iris made a mental note to learn.

"Merlin, I missed you guys!" The raven haired girl declared with a sincere smile as Liatris planted herself firmly by her sister's side, the younger but not-so-little redhead smiled warmly, "Of course you did Sis; no one around to get you in trouble, no one to get out of trouble, no pranks to worry about or vengeance to be planned because of a prank. I'm surprised you haven't died of boredom yet!"

Iris rolled her eyes but didn't lose her smile, "You know, I'm surprised too; between classes, homework, tutoring, invading trolls, and quidditch; you'd think I'd have enough excitement in my life, right!" She retorted with a snort as Liatris nodded her head in mock solemnity, though the play was tempered by the gentle squeeze on her shoulder that had been broken from her fall on the stairs.

Even James looked slightly put out at the reminder of his daughter's near death encounter with a troll; Iris had filled them in on her school life after the game with Slytherin. Of course a letter had been sent to her home informing them that there had been an incident at the school and she had gotten injured but had made a full recovery.

The full story had stunned them and after the game where her broom had all but bucked her off as a result of a jinx, it had taken all of her coercive skill and that of Daphne and Draco to ensure that she wasn't withdrawn from Hogwarts in favor of being sent to Beaubaxtons. Even then her parents had made them swear (not on their magic) that Iris was not to be alone when it couldn't be helped; which had made getting away to study her Parselmagic books all that more difficult with her full schedule.

She had yet to really begin practicing any of the magic since the tome she was currently reading was mostly on the history and nature of Parselmagic and to that point all magic really. She had discovered that magic was not just an ability but that it was a genetic mutation, mankind had never been a magical species; what little power they had exercised had come as a result of intensive study of the natural world.

Instead, the first dramatically powerful wizard in British history had been Merlin; the child of an incubus and a mortal woman. The infusion of creature blood had created an offspring with tremendous magical talent because the genetic 'switch' had been thrown; allowing the man that was born to wield incredible tolerances of magic because his body and mind could handle the stress and power of a magical core.

Furthermore, the nature of the creature that provided the genetic link to magic often influenced a person's magical abilities; Merlin for instance as the advisor to Arthur, had displayed a gift of oration and teaching as a result of his incubus sire's seduction magic. It also influenced a person's magical affinity, while any wizard or witch could theoretically perform any spell so long as they had the capability there would always be spells they would have a innate predisposition for.

Her ancestor, one Aleksandra Peverov a great granddaughter of Ignotus Peverell, had discovered her ability to communicate with serpents; she had not known why she could when her parents could not even though they were both magical. She had devoted her life to learning about her gift rather than simply accept them and her search for answers had led her to India.

According to local legends and religion the Naga was a snake-like being, half man and half serpent; sentient and powerful they had been protectors and guardians of lore and temples for time immemorial. Beyond this facet was another, how they protected the Buddha; mystical men who had transcended the boundaries of their brethren.

Aleksandra hypothesized that like Merlin, the original Bodhisattva had been the progeny of creature and man; thusly they had been endowed with magic and from their genetic inheritance the ability to commune with snakes which indicated that their sires were most likely Naga considering the region and spiritualism of the area. As wizards mixed and people dispersed around the world, genes would get pushed around; becoming recessive or dominant as the creature blood that spawned them became diluted over generations.

But these genes coming from magical origins were preserved in the genetic code of its carriers never fading away from the sequence and when conditions were right, those genes manifested themselves prominently; for Aleksandra it was the ability to commune with snakes, for Merlin it had been a unique compulsion that he exuded, Morgan le Fay had been an exceptionally powerful healer.

Undoubtedly there would be more mixing then Nagas, Incubi, and Fae as Vella, Centaurs, Leprechauns, Merpeople, and Goblins existed; Humans just happened to be the perfect receptacles, they were an adaptable species which was why they had survived for so long.

Iris of course, had found the entire work thoroughly engrossing and quite compelling since it explained Squibs by virtue of the explanation for wizards, they simply weren't born with the gene for magic; but they would be carriers for the gene so later progeny might display the gene. By that reach of the mind, one could argue that there were no Muggleborns; they were simply descendant of Squibs from older Wizarding lines unless the Muggles that parented the child had developed the magic gene for themselves.

The theory of it all was simply mind boggling and it opened the mind to whole new avenues of thought; but her ancestor had never gone public with her work. As well documented as she was there simply was not the technology available to present a concrete case before the Wizarding community and she had seen no reason why she should drag her family name through the mud for something she couldn't defend.

Iris suspected that the technology for Aleksandra's research to be proven true would never come from the magical community; they were too set in their ways to accommodate the rapid development of technology when spells and potions suited them just fine. Harry had memories of the Muggle world and what they were capable of; televisions and movies that made magical photos seem dull in comparison, automobiles and planes some of them so fast they could break the sound barrier which was a sight more than what a broom could do even if the Floo network and Apparition were faster, but Muggles had developed nuclear bombs which could exterminate entire cities in seconds.

That was something even wizards couldn't do, much could be learned from the scientific progress of the Muggle world and it would bear watching as well, despite not having magic they were still human and perhaps in light of the fact that they did not have magic; Muggles were expanding their technology so quickly it would only be a matter of time until they figured out what was going on under their noses.

In any case, Iris was prompted from her brooding over the books by Daphne, the honey blond girl had wandered away from her parents and her younger sister Astoria to the Potter's. "Good afternoon Lord and Lady Potter, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass extends to you an invitation to attend a Yuletide celebration at the Greengrass Estate." The young heiress stated formally with a curtsy that left James blinking in surprise but Lily was alert and on point.

"Greetings Miss Greengrass, The House of Potter graciously accepts the invitation." The matriarch responded as she gave a curtsy in return, though hers was pointedly not as deep as she observed the rules of conduct that the formal invitation had required.

Daphne nodded seriously but broke into a smile as she adopted a less formal air now that she had completed the invitation; smiling widely she embraced the Potter's fondly in way of greeting which was warmly returned by the family before she zoomed off to repeat the invitations to the Grangers, which was quite amusing to watch the Muggles, or quite possibly the Squib and the Muggle, receive an invitation so formally.

But Hermione responded perfectly, dipping into a deeper curtsey for Daphne since she was not of an Ancient and Most Noble House and giving the ceremonial reply; Iris wondered briefly if the two had rehearsed at all on the train for this or if the brunette simply had memorized the proceedings from the book that she had borrowed. Either way, from the way that Lady Greengrass was nodding her head in approval, it seemed that the young witch had impressed the aristocrat.

Further down the platform, Draco was greeting his mother and father; catching her godmother's eye Iris waved to the woman. Narcissa Malfoy gave her a smile and wave in return though Iris could tell there was a certain tightness around her mouth and eyes that meant she was still aware that while the two were back on friendly terms that the events from the prevous summer were still in her mind.

Iris was certain that her godmother would retain her feelings of guilt and unease until the girl came out and told the older woman that things between them were back to normal. After the series of letters that they had been exchanging over the course of her stay at Hogwarts she was comfortable enough to fully forgive the woman, Narcissa had been nothing but honest and open with her in her letters and the trust between them was back, brittle, but back.

Besides the Malfoy's were Blaise and his mother, Isabella Zabini was an exceptionally beautiful woman and it was no wonder that despite her infamy she was still constantly being Courted for her hand in marriage. She had the same deep auburn hair as her son and the same eyes of molten gold, with dark olive skin that appeared to be butter smooth. Her body was trim and curvaceous, almost voluptuous but there was an underlying muscularity to the woman that hinted that she was anything but a soft woman.

"Alright Iris, you ready to head home? I'm sure Moony is anxious to see you again," Lily suggested softly as she watched Iris wave goodbye to her friends though they would be seeing each other in just a few days. She couldn't help but notice that her daughter seemed so much more vibrant than she could ever remember seeing her before; it was evident that life at Hogwarts had done the child good, her inner circle of friends had doubled with the inclusion of Hermione and Blaise.

Not to mention the camaraderie and friendship she had gotten from her teammates as a result of Quidditch and the other Gryffindors she had befriended. The quiet and isolated child that had found her friendship in the pages of books had been replaced with a happier child that was outgoing and surrounded by others.

Her experiences told her that this was still her daughter, the same girl that she had given birth to and nurtured lovingly for the last eleven years. The transformation in the raven haired girl had been sudden and dramatic over the summer but the Iris that she was looking at now had blossomed into a radiant child with a magnetic personality. And while it pained Lily, she couldn't help but love this girl all the more for being so much more… _alive,_ than she had been before.

She wondered if that made her a bad mother, for loving her daughter more now that she was this social creature that had enjoyed cooking and spending time with her, who wrote to her about school and included her in her life rather than sit around quietly in her room away from everyone.

When Iris looked up at her with those shining emerald orbs that mirrored her own, and they were glowing with an internal light of someone who was teeming with life and the contentment of being alive to live it; it made her heart skip. Because those eyes belonged to someone much older, someone who had lived through too much pain, and despite how that person had come to reside within her daughter as a part of her daughter – she knew that they had healed and that healing had given her a daughter with so much love, she could not resent that presence.

Iris could see the recognition in her mother's eyes, a testament to the woman's experiences and brilliance that she could identify without asking what had happened to her daughter and she could also see beyond a shadow of a doubt that those eyes held nothing but genuine love and compassion for the girl that was reflected in the black of those pupils.

"Yeah mum, I would like to go home." Those words, simple as they were held such meaning now and between the mother and child there was a silent conversation as their eyes met that expressed volumes of emotion that could never be explained in words. In that moment, both of them knew that the bond between them had healed completely and was stronger now than it had been before; and as Lily closed her hand over her daughter's she was content with the notion that she was a bad mother for loving her daughter more.

Because her daughter was an exceptional child and deserved her love and all that she could give her.

The Potter family Apparated away.

* * *

><p><strong>Greengrass Estate, Buckinghamshire, England, UK<strong>

**December 24, 1991**

The days between her return home and the night of the Yuletide celebrations had been marked with the reuniting of Iris with her 'uncles' Remus and Sirius as well as with Sirius' wife Sarah and their son Pollux. Together the extended clan of families had been vigil through the night of Iris' return for the Winter Solstice, observing the longest night of the year with a small ritual where they burned incense and gave an offering of tidings to Magic.

While it had seemed insignificant, the moment of the Solstice had been quite powerful as Iris had felt a tingly wash of magic across her senses and the familiar smell of fresh dittany that always accompanied Hecate's presence. But the touch had been fleeting and the goddess' champion was certain that everyone that had observed that moment had been granted the same brief touch.

After that night, Iris had spent her time between completing her winter assignments and being with her family after four long months away with only a single visit and a series of letters.

While the assignments weren't that harsh for the most part since the instructors were quite aware of the likelihood of getting anyone but seventh year students to write out five feet of parchment detailing the theory and principles behind a certain piece of magic, they had still demanded at least a foot long essay.

A demand which Iris could belt out well enough but her time with Hermione and Daphne had made her a particularly competitive student academically so she had little difficulty going over the minimum length and writing full expositions on the topics. Especially considering how her parents were experts in Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, and Potions; she was packing a loaded deck in her favor.

She wrestled with some guilt knowing that Hermione didn't have the valuable resources that her parents were but considering how the girl had been top of her year in Harry's universe she got over it quickly enough and redoubled her efforts to have a truly amazing essay for her Professors to read.

On the other hand, she tempered her schoolwork with keeping her Quidditch skills polished; joining her sister and father out on the pitch despite the frigid conditions and practicing the various techniques that she had been drilled in… and the ones that she hadn't been drilled in but wanted to practice anyway.

Cooking with her mom again was a welcome change, as much as she had enjoyed the house-elves cooking at Hogwarts over the past four months; you really couldn't beat a home cooked meal that you had a hand in making. Especially her pie, Iris was particularly proud of her apple pie which had left everyone comatose after tasting the warm and gooey blend of fruit, cinnamon, and flaky crust.

Besides the cooking, her mother had been quite surprised by the extra-strength potion that Iris had presented her with as well as the story behind it. It wasn't very common that a person had an instinctual compulsion to add ingredients to a potion; often times it got you blown up more than anything else.

But it wasn't unheard of for wizards with strong cores to connect with potions and work them based on the magical signatures that complimented the brew; Lily had displayed the trait and Severus had come into it as well by his fourth year at Hogwarts. Lily recalled Draco had the same trait which was why he had been given an upper level apothecary kit; he had his godfather to thank for recognizing his talent and helping him to expand it.

It was another facet to Iris' abilities and one that had not been influenced by Harry's presence at all, this was all Iris; most likely as a result of growing up in a house with magical parents that had encouraged her to develop her power rather than punish her for her 'freakishness.'

Lily had acknowledged the development by taking her daughter to her warded labs in the basement; introducing the girl to the only area of the house that she hadn't seen before. The eastern section of the labs were a storage area with a door at the far end that was bolstered with enough protections and wards that it could only be Remus' room during the full moon, though it had been described more as an emergency bomb shelter for the family.

The northern wing was reserved as Lily's enchanting workshop; the area was strongly warded as well though there was a secondary precaution that ensured the person working in the room was protected from themselves. Working with experimental magic had back lashed in the past and killed many an enchanter, so trust the mother of two to develop an amulet that would protect her from her own magic; applying a powerful shield around her whenever her own magic was in use.

Essentially, as long as she was working on a spell or enchanting an object she was protected from fatal backlash; she was working on a variant of the protection that could be keyed to other magical energies that she could sell to cursebreakers; it would prove to be an invaluable tool that could potentially save lives.

The potions workshop to the west was different in regards to the fact that it had very little protections, not that there weren't inherit dangers that were associated with brewing as Neville Longbottom could verify; it seemed regardless of universe, Snape was capable of driving the boy to failure if for different reasons.

Rather than fail out of nerves, the boy was now failing out of arrogance; he was so determined to prove himself to everyone that he disregarded or misread the instructions in an effort to recreate the wheel.

Lily was just so in tune with her brewing and competent enough in her art that she rarely made mistakes; her methodology and meticulousness had as of yet produced only a handful of errors out of the decade of work she had been involved in.

Iris had been fascinated by her mother's work and Lily had offered to let her daughter work with her when she was free over the summer and over her breaks having already keyed her into the wards save for the ones at the end of the storage room.

James had put in for time off so that he could spend the week off from work to be with his family for the winter break which had been a feat in and of itself since his shift commander was a royal prick; the man waited until the day before the Hogwarts Express was due to arrive, to approve the time off that James had put in for months ago so they could actually make plans to go elsewhere.

But having him conscious during the day had been a welcome change since it provided the family with the opportunity to go out on day trips at least and enjoy some time away from the Manor. Great Britain was an exceptionally beautiful country to explore and with none of the constraints regarding travel; the Potter's had spent the second day of Iris' return home to travel to a little Wizarding village on the coast of Greece.

With access to the coastal waters of the Mediterranean and a bit of spell work that preserved the warmth of the summer; a day on the beach was not only possible but exceptionally enjoyable. For Iris, such trips had been common in her younger days but they had been sparse in the last few years since her father got promoted.

Conversely, Harry had never spent a day on the beach with his family; the only events that he could clearly recall spending any time by the water at all had been the horrid summer before his first year at Hogwarts when the Dursley's had bustled him off to some shack in the middle of nowhere only to have Hagrid come through the door to his rescue.

So in Iris' mind this trip was sentimentally important because it was a chance for Harry to experience the happy childhood he had been deprived and as those psychological injuries that he didn't know he had were healed the schism between what was Harry and what was the original Iris became less defined.

* * *

><p>The evening of the party was rather hectic, because they had been invited by the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass there were certain considerations that had to be taken into account for this party that weren't of major concern for more informal parties.<p>

For instance, to an informal Yuletide party that the Potter's threw it would have been acceptable for Iris to wear a comfortable jumper and a pair of well worn jeans; instead she was wearing a fitted dress of navy blue velvet that fell to her ankles with full sleeves that hugged her upper arm and then billowed loosely from her elbow down; the hem of the gown done in gold and made a pattern of arches, within each arch was a rune stitched almost transparently in glossy colorless silk.

Around her waist was a belt of supple leather, dyed in gold with scrollwork stitched all the way around until it met the oval buckle that was made to look like the Potter coat of arms, a crowned stag etched so finely that one could almost believe it was breathing and hanging about its neck was chain of lily flowers. James Potter had added that last design in commemoration of his wedding to Lily, and he had wanted the world to know his love for her.

Overall, Iris thought she looked entirely too fine; she could admit to herself that the dress was beautifully cut and made and that she herself looked rather pretty with her hair falling a tumble in a mass of soft ringlet curls with some dark eye liner that made her emerald orbs appear all the brighter as she stared into the mirror the full length mirror and looked herself over.

But she was more at home on a quidditch pitch than a pureblood party, she wasn't a burgeoning socialite like Daphne was nor did she have the practiced cool that Draco had or the reserve that Blaise had. It was rather amusing actually that a part of her had stood before a Dark Lord and been ready to die but she was nervous about going to a party with a bunch of aristocrats… many of whom had been at that Dark Lord's side.

Perhaps she was nervous for all the right reasons then.

Turning away from the mirror, Iris stepped into a pair of flats that awaited her at the foot of her bed by the chest; these too were made from exceedingly supple leather, both comfortable and soft to the touch, they were dyed in a sensible black so that they could be worn with an assortment of clothing.

Iris found it a small mercy that at eleven she was not expected to wear the outrageous heels that would be expected of the young aristocratic women that would be in attendance. Her mother had regaled her with stories of a younger Lily that had to learn to dance in stiletto heels for her wedding reception.

With that thought twisting the corners of her lips into a grateful smile, the Potter heiress stepped out of her room and descended the stairs to the parlor at the front of the house on the ground floor to see her parents patiently waiting and talking amicably to Remus who would have the Manor to himself that evening, Liatris was sitting on a nearby armchair with a scowl on her face.

While Iris was uncomfortable at pureblood events, she would have friends at the party with which to interact and bleed of her discomfort. Liatris was loathe to attend any social event, she was devoid of just about every social grace that could be conceived of and much like their dear father; the filter between her brain and her mouth never seemed to work properly.

While things could always change, it was quite clear that Liatris was quite content to be the younger daughter in the family; she would be covered for everything she needed and would have none of the social pressures that Iris would have to deal with.

Entering the room quietly the only person who noticed her entrance was Remus, you couldn't get anything behind that man's heightened senses, and his scarred face split into a wide grin at the image that his 'niece' presented. The facial expression alerted her parents to her arrival and they turned as well to see their daughter, James' eye blew wide open and Lily smiled at her daughter.

"I'm sooo screwed…" James said to himself as he shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose to Remus' amusement though Lily smacked him on the arm as Iris came closer with a frown on her face.

"Don't mind your father pup; he's just thinking of all the marriage contracts he'll be receiving in the next few years. You look a vision!" Remus said as he drew Iris into a careful hug so that he didn't frazzle her appearance, James grimaced at the mention of marriage contracts and Lily rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Merlin James, you'd think we were attending a funeral by the look on your face!" Lily muttered at her husband's childish antics though she smiled delightedly at her daughter and seconded Remus' sentiment while Liatris joined the group with an air of displeasure though she had wiped away the scowl she had sported before, all the better since she looked much nicer without it.

James produced an embossed letter that had been delivered by owl earlier in the day and held it out so that everyone who was going could lay a finger on an edge. Remus back away and bade them a good evening while Iris grabbed a hold of a corner and suddenly she felt the yank behind her navel that meant she was traveling by portkey.

There was that awful sensation of being sucked through a straw again and then she was slammed to the ground on her feet, though to her credit she managed to keep her balance and look unperturbed by the delivery system. Liatris had not been so lucky and it had taken James' quick reflexes to steady his daughter lest she wind up on her back in the grass and running her pale blue gown.

Taking a look around, Iris was at once besieged by the grandeur of the Grenngrass Estate; they were standing in the middle of a gazebo to the side of a massive walled garden, the area had obviously been ensorcelled because while the rest of England was in the grips of winter, the gardens they were standing in were comfortably warm and seemed to be in the middle of spring.

Trees and flowers of every kind filled the grounds with brilliant foliage and the aroma that filled the air was a sweet perfume as the moonlight shone down and illuminated the green expanse, soft glowing motes of light hung in the air like faeries and the entire atmosphere of the place was soft and beautiful. Whoever had been responsible for arranging the garden's landscape had done a remarkable job.

Stepping out from under the gazebo, the family of four walked along a small stone path with a quiet brook running alongside it to an open pavilion in the middle of the garden, where the brook became a tiny moat that surrounded the large rectangular platform.

Along the outer edge of the pavilion were tables and chairs and in the corner was a small band that was playing softly and on the short side of the rectangle beside the musicians was a buffet table bedecked with all sorts of delicacies that made the mouth water. The center of the platform was cleared and by the looks of the people shuffling along quietly it had been reserved for dancing.

Evidently, the Greengrass family didn't believe in doing anything halfway and while this wasn't one of the formal gala events that the pureblood society took part in several times during the year, it was quite the spectacle one would expect from opulent and exceedingly wealthy aristocrats.

It took only a moment of standing on the edge of the pavilion confusedly before Daphne materialized from somewhere and stood before the family looking rather pretty in a red dress with her hair pinned in an elaborate updo that left two locks of her honey blond hair to rame her face. She curtsied politely to the family which earned her a slew of answering curtsies and a bow, before she broke into a wide grin and gave Iris a welcoming peck on the cheek.

"I'm glad you could make it, this party has been awfully droll without anyone to keep me company." Daphne whispered in Iris ear, causing the girl to giggle in amusement as the Potter's were led over to a table at the edge of the pavilion beside the high table that dominated the other short side of the pavilion; the table they were led to was right on the corner and indicated a place of importance at the side of the hosts.

The position was not lost on the Potter's as they stared at the table quizzically though Daphne waved it off simply by saying, "Mother said that I could have a table close by for my friends and their families." While the comment was innocent enough, Iris was smart enough to realize that this was networking at its finest. Through their daughters and heirs, the Greengrass and Potter families were tied together as allies so long as the children remained on pleasant terms.

It wasn't a political alliance, not yet, but if the girls came of age and were still close friends then as heirs to their respective familial positions the position would become quite clear. For now though, it was just a passing fancy of the heiress of Greengrass to have other children close at hand. It wouldn't stop the gossip and intrigue that was the bread and butter to the elite families though.

Before long, Lord Eduard Greengrass and his wife, the Lady Claire Greengrass, came to greet their guests; Iris gave them a polite curtsy in greeting and after the niceties were observed, she was pulled away from the table by Daphne while Astoria, Daphne's younger sister, joined Liatris at the table and began to converse with the auburn girl.

Astoria was about as physically different from her elder sister as Liatris was from hers; as Daphne had the same honey blond hair and blue eyes as her mother, Astoria was possessed of the chestnut brown hair of their father and his slate grey eyes. Those eyes of course were quite striking, it was easy to see why Astoria had few friends her own age because her eyes had an unnerving quality about them; they seemed to see everything and pinned you down to your seat.

But Liatris wasn't the sort of person to be intimidated by anything; quite to the contrary she was charged headlong into a situation without ever thinking of the consequences. It had caused her parents much grief in the past, she spoke her mind freely and was oblivious to the feathers she ruffled when she did so. But impetuousness was a small price to pay because where the girl lacked any social decorum she loved passionately and freely.

It was often joked about the house that if ever there was an unloved creature in the world, a day with Liatris would leave them insipid. She was just that kind of person, headstrong and zealous but she was incapable of being anything but honest and compassionate.

So it was no surprise that the moment that Astoria fixed her with her penetrating slate gray eyes, rather than flinch away of politely excuse herself; she met the girl's eyes with her own expressive hazel ones.

"Your eyes are kinda creepy but they're really cool!" Liatris said bluntly but the endearing grin on her face took out any of the insult that might have been in her words and Astoria blinked in surprise. She had been expected the girl to bolt or ridicule her, not to compliment her; no one complimented her eyes.

"Um… thank you." She responded slowly as she struggled to find something adequate to respond with but all she could come up with was, "I like your hair, it's a lovely color." She felt lame the moment the words came out of her mouth, she really was socially stunted. At nine years old, the only friend she had in the world was her sister and an old cat that constantly hung about her.

Regardless, Liatris just smiled brightly at the girl and Astoria couldn't help but smile in return if a bit timidly since it seemed that a grin from the auburn haired girl was an infectious thing.

"I'm Liatris Potter, pleased to meet ya!" Liatris introduced herself and stuck out a hand to which the grey eyed girl leaned away from as she anticipated the shove that usually accompanied someone coming near her. But after a wary moment where Liatris just fixed her with that openly friendly smile she reached forward and took the girl's hand in her own, "Astoria Greengrass, the pleasure is mine."

Strangely enough, she found that she wasn't just saying those words; she meant them and somehow that meant something to her. As Liatris squeezed her hand gently, the second Greengrass daughter could feel the difference in the grip from her own. Where her hand was soft and delicate, more suited to the instruments that she had taken solace in playing well; Liatris' hands were rough and callused from handling broomsticks and climbing trees.

"How old are you Liatris?" Astoria asked curiously, it was seldom that she got to talk to anyone and now that she had forged a burgeoning friendship with this girl she couldn't help but want to know more about her.

"I'm ten, turning eleven in May so I'll be going to Hogwarts next year with our sisters." Liatris said excitedly though she noticed the wilting look that fell about Astoria when she said those words. "I'll take a guess and say you're nine so you won't be going to Hogwarts until the year after next, huh?"

However tedious Liatris might have found schoolwork, it was quite one thing to call her unmotivated and another stupid. Astoria nodded her head slowly, surprised by how observant the other girl was; "Close, I just turned ten at the beginning of December but I still can't go to Hogwarts next year since I can't get my wand until way after the school year starts." The girl said as a frown twisted her lips but all it did was give her a pouty expression that was much nicer to see then the crumpled expression that Liatris' face took on when she frowned.

Still those grey eyes clouded with an almost forlorn expression and there was a desperate sadness in those eyes that compelled Liatris into action. So she simply pulled the other girl into the seat with her and threw her arm over the other's shoulders in a one armed hug as she did her best to comfort her new friend. She didn't try to tell the girl it would be okay or make any promises; she simply let the girl know that she was there.

There was something to be said about the empathy of children, that they needed no words to comfort one another; that the most genial of actions could prove to be as comforting as the most eloquent words. That was something that people forgot as they got older, they tried to fill silences and comfort with words when it was actions that spoke the strongest.

For Astoria that simple hug meant more to her than all the placations that could have been given in their stead; because for once there was no insult or accusation or pain that came from those thin arms. Children could often times be cruel, like all humans they reacted to things that scared them but they did not have the age or maturity to temper their instincts and so they lashed out harshly, far more harshly then was strictly warranted at times.

So she took comfort from that innocent hug oblivious to the wrathful glare that seared her back and should have lit her aflame as Pollux Black watched from the edge of the pavilion his own family arriving for the Yuletide celebrations.

* * *

><p>By midnight the party at the Greengrass Estate was in full motion, earlier in the evening there had been the perfunctory welcome from the hosts and they had invited their guests to enjoy the food and drink, the music and the dance floor. And so the food had been consumed, liquor had chased it down; the music had been good and the dancing great.<p>

Iris had been surprised at just how fun dancing could be, she had of course taken lessons as it was something required of her, expected as an heir of an Ancient and Most Noble House; but she had never taken much enjoyment out of it since her instructor had been a rather sharp and demanding woman who had given little compliment and demanded perfection.

But her friends had been much more amicable company, Draco was a fine dancer and he had proven to be incorrigible in his desire to dance. At eleven the boy was graceful and precise and he had spun and twisted the raven haired girl like a top and when she had stumbled he had played it into the dance with a dip or swirl that put her right back on her feet.

By the time that Blaise cut in, she was giddy with pleasure and comfortable in her steps and motions that she had given herself totally to flying about the dance floor. They danced juvenilely, lacking polish and the finesse of some of the older dancers but they made up for it with the childish abandon and enthusiasm that made the adults grin and show off a but themselves as they rekindled their pleasures from the children.

Even Hermione had gotten into it, the fact that she was even there had taken a lot of the other attendants by surprise but she had been welcomed by Lady Greengrass herself and so they were held by protocol to accept her presence as demeaning her would by extension be demeaning the powerfully placed woman.

The brunette had few choices in dance partners though but she didn't seem to mind much as her friends taught her the steps and just as frighteningly fast as always she learned them almost immediately. After that it had been nothing but taking turns with the two males in their party or dancing with Daphne and Iris when the mood struck them.

It was another one of those things that was wholly of Iris; Harry had detested dancing though that might have been a result of his learning in the arms of McGonagall and being forced to attend because of his status as a Triwizard champion.

By the time she settled on the garden swing with her friends, they were sweaty and disheveled with a throbbing ache deep in their muscles that felt rather good at the moment but would leave them sore come morning.

But as Iris watched the festivities go on, she was recognizing faces tying them with names and she realized that a good number of the people in attendance here were Death Eaters or had been Death Eaters in Harry's universe. It was a perturbing feeling because at the moment they all looked to be enjoying themselves, having fun as they drank and danced; they were all so… normal and _human_.

They weren't monsters, just people and they didn't seem all that much like bad people either really; Iris had danced with a few of them when her friends were dancing with each other. She was certain that some of them had done horrible things, unspeakable things a decade and more ago but certainly not all of them were cold blooded murderers.

It was difficult to come to terms with that, on an intellectual level she knew that there were really no such thing as monsters; the world was simply a subjective thing. These people had a view that they had been ready to stand for, fight for, and die for; they were zealots, radicals, terrorists. But as was often the case, one man's terrorist was another man's freedom fighter.

Things were muddled in a way they hadn't been for Harry, he had been led onto path to fight a man that had wanted him dead and had killed his parents. It had been a battle for the right to survive; there had been no greater political aspirations or intent behind their confrontation. That wasn't to say there hadn't been serious ethical and moral differences between Harry and the Dark Lord, mass murder and terrorism went strictly against his ethos.

But these people had found something compelling enough behind Voldemort's tyrannical approach and Grindewald's that they had been willing to kill for it. Good people did terrible things when they were pushed hard enough and while bad people had slanted the ethical considerations of the war; wasn't it the case that the victor wrote the histories.

A bell chimed in the night, twelve clear reverberations that cut through Iris' thoughts and silenced the musicians as they were drowned out. December twenty-fifth had rolled upon them quickly and cries rose up amongst the crowd.

Iris turned to her friends as they shared a collective smile and spoke in unison, "HAPPY YULETIDE!"

While her brooding thoughts were not far from her mind, the raven haired girl put them to the back of her mind so that she might partake in the revelry of the occasion with her friends. Grabbing the night purse that she had brought along for this, Iris snapped open the clasp and opened the handbag so she could fish out the presents she had stashed away for just this moment.

With a flick of her wrist, her wand slid down into her hand from the disillusioned holster wrapped around her forearm, and she tapped each package so that they ballooned from their shrunken sizes to their genuine proportions.

They exchanged gifts until each person had four in their lap and grinning like mad urchins, they tore apart the nicely wrapped presents to get at the hidden contents. From Blaise, the most enigmatic of their small troupe Iris received an empty journal with a card; _"They say I am the most reserved of us but I know that you are the brooder even if you don't want to show it. Brooders keep their own counsel, so here is a gift to do just that; a drop of blood to the first page ensures that no one but you will ever be able to read the contents."_

Reserved and observant, despite knowing the boy for a scant three months she was quite certain the youth had them all pinned down to the way they chewed their food. His gift was significant and Iris was certain that she would put it to use in the months and possibly years to come; a journal only she could access would be useful.

In turn, her gift to him seemed inadequate but he seemed all the happier for it, a looking glass that could see through glamour charms and illusions, she had written to him as well, _"To the person who sees all and reveals little, a tool so that nothing may escape your notice; use it fondly."_ The spy glass was simple in design, made from ironwood and cast in a copper it extended forward to three hands in length.

From Draco, the sarcastic peacock that had wormed his way fondly into her heart as her favorite 'cousin' had given her a comb, enchanted to bestow upon the user glamours of their choosing and it could actually be used to comb one's hair. Carved from dragonbone, it was a pale onyx in color and it was engraved with fine lines revealing a picture of a field of flowers in bloom.

From Daphne, the heiress and Iris' oldest friend she had received a charm for her bracelet and a rather interesting one at that, the charm was a pentagram in a circle. At each point of the pentagram was a glass bead in a different color that represented each person in their quintet, green for Iris, gold for Blaise, red for Hermione, silver for Draco, and blue for Daphne.

The back of the charm was likewise interesting since Daphne had given the same gift to all of them though mounted differently; by touching one of the beads or all of them a message could be sent that would appear on the back of the charm which would warm if a message was waiting for you.

Hermione had bestowed upon each of her friends a heart supply of their favorite sweets, including an ample amount of fudge chocolate to Iris; but the brunette felt slightly out of place considering that she had given enough candy to rot their teeth and had been lavished upon with fine gifts. A fine winter cloak that warmed and held back the elements, the pentagram on a delicate gold chain, several anthologies about magical history and lore, and a wand holster of fine craft with the same disillusionment charm on it as Iris' so that it never need be far from hand.

On top of it all, she had been given quite the sum in gift vouchers for various shops as belated birthday presents; considering that she had been a new friend and they had not known what to get her then.

It had taken a bit of cajoling and reassuring to get the girl to accept the gifts though she did so hesitantly, for all the girl's brilliance she was a Gryffindor through and through; too noble to accept a gift she didn't think she deserved rather than simply take it. It was an endearing trait for someone like her to be so modest and humble when she demanded perfection in herself in all her endeavors.

The night was quickly settling down as everyone was feeling the effects of full bellies and a long night of revelry. Before too long, Iris' parents came to collect her and she bade her friends a "see you later" rather than a goodbye before they took hold of their port key invitation and were jerked back to Potter Manor.

Iris would remember the Yuletide celebration as one of her fondest memories for years to come, and then there was the fact that even more gifts were waiting at home beneath an evergreen tree though those would have to wait for morning as James and Lily bustled their children off to bed.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I made an egregious error last chapter when I suggested that I was going to get through Yule, the Quidditch match and Norbert in a single chapter. When I began writing I had every intention of doing so, but for some reason I began to write about the Winter Break and I was just engrossed with it. Most of this chapter is just filler though there were a few points of interest that were vital to the storyline.

**Next Chapter: **_Quidditch and Norbert_


	8. Chapter VII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: I've broken the one hundred review mark and I can't help but be enthused by your continued support of my writing, when I started this endeavor it was a proof of concept for myself to see if I had what it took to write a story. Thank you all for your kind words and encouragement, you all are the reason why I continue to write.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter VII**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**February 12, 1992**

The rest of the winter holidays passed quickly, too quickly for Iris' taste; it seemed that just as she was starting to get back into the groove of being back at home she was bustling to get her stuff packed to return to Hogwarts.

As the saying goes, time flies when you're having fun; especially when you're having fun flying. But that was just one of the ways she had enjoyed the rest of her break since the Greengrass party, after all she had gotten rather nice gifts and she had been enjoying them immeasurably.

Particularly the comb that Draco had given her, it seemed that it had an additional effect that she hadn't known about; it actually styled her hair so that it held without requiring gallons of hair potion. She didn't use the function much since she rather enjoyed her wild hair but it had been fun for a day to show off completely straight hair for her family; the expressions on their face had been priceless, even more so when for dinner that night she had shown up with massive spikes that would have made Nymphadora proud.

Still, all good things must come to an end; which brought her back to where she was at the moment, sitting in the girl's dormitory of Gryffindor tower with her trunk placed back at the foot of her four poster bed with her broomstick leaning in the corner of the room by her bed. It was evening and she was staring out the window over the grounds forlornly as she thought of home.

She knew it was rather dumb to be feeling melancholy after she had just spent the last two weeks at home and only left that morning but she couldn't help it. Part of her had just spent the holidays with her family for the first time and had rejoiced over it, flying with her sister in the blustering cold, making potions with her mum, hanging out with her dad in his study as he complained about paperwork.

It had all been so mundane but it was a normalcy that Harry had craved his entire life, to simply be with his family and now that he had gotten a taste of what the winter break was really like with people who loved you; it was a feeling that you couldn't really help but miss.

Iris sighed heavily as she rose from her bed, she was being irrational and she knew it so she resolutely left her room and forced herself to mingle with her fellow housemates down in the Common Room. Throwing herself into a seat between the Weasley twins on the couch in front of the fireplace, she forced the older boys to make a space for her.

Initially, such behavior had shocked the other first years since none of them save for Hermione or Neville would be capable of wheedling their way into the circles of their older housemates. But after her stunning performance on the pitch, the girl had become quite popular among the older students since she had schooled the Slytherins soundly.

Besides, after she had conjured sunflowers and turned their hair pink until they apologized to Percy for stealing his prefect badge; they had made her an honorary 'sister' so it wasn't like she hadn't been invited to hang out with the twins. So seriously had they taken the honorific that she had gotten one of Mrs. Weasley's infamous jumpers, emerald green to match her eyes and exceedingly soft and warm.

The term started up with a vengeance, the teachers it seemed were working doubly hard to snap the students out of their lackadaisical habits from the past two weeks and seemed to be getting revenge for the lack of effort most of the students had put into their winter assignments.

Of course, Iris resented the implication that she had slacked off at all and the 'O' that she got back on all of her papers was proof of that; but it seemed that none of her professors were going to exclude her from the crushing amount of work that they had saddled on everyone. Not even Snape, though he had at least acknowledged that some of his more gifted students were being punished because of the general ineptitude of the class.

Worse still was Wood and quidditch practice; she had discovered just how miserable practice was when the winter snow had warmed enough to be winter rains. You couldn't stay in the air for more than a few moments before you were soaked through and the biting wind sliced through and stole what little warmth you had managed to keep.

She loved flying, truly she did; but with the weather and Wood's grueling schedule it was all she could do from stashing her broom and stealing away to the Common Room hearth so that she could curl up around a hot cup of chocolate.

On the other hand she couldn't help but see where the Captain was coming from, if they won the match against Hufflepuff they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship which was a feat that hadn't been accomplished in the past seven years. More than that though, Iris had a bit of a score to settle with Hufflepuff House, she hadn't forgotten the scurrying children that had caused her a concussion and put her in the position to light up a troll like a Yuletide tree.

Which wasn't to say she hadn't gotten her revenge already, several of the Puffs had found themselves in rather compromising positions when a discreet switching spell had left several students wearing considerably different trousers than they had come to breakfast in; more specifically certain boys found themselves in skirts and certain girls found themselves in trousers much too big for them.

But sometimes you just needed to make a point about who you were messing with to dissuade others from trying to step up.

During one particular practice where the rain had come down on them sideways and turned the ground into a vat of mud Wood had lost his temper with the twins after they had started dive bombing each other. They had been watching Iris closely when she went into her stoops and had been practicing to see if they could use it to scare the willies out of some the players; after all as long as you didn't hit the other player it wasn't a foul.

"Would you stop that!" Wood bellowed over the falling of the rain and the wind, it was actually fairly surprising that his words weren't ripped away by the wind, "Those stunts will cost us the match! Snape's refereeing this time and I have no intention of giving him the chance to take off points!"

His words stunned the other players into inaction, the quaffle slid from Katie's hand and George paused in his dive so suddenly that he actually flipped off his broom into a patch of mud some feet below though he came up spluttering and uninjured.

"What do you mean he's the ref! He couldn't be fair to Gryffindor if his life was on the line!" Fred shouted as he gave his brother a hand up out of the mud; it was evident that the other twin was just as serious since he didn't take the opportunity to pull his brother in with him.

The rest of the team landed and began voicing their sentiments as well, save for Iris who took the opportunity to sidle up alongside Angelina so that she wasn't shivering so bad from the weather. It was moments like this where she desperately wished she wasn't the perfect seeker, she had good circulation but she got cold way too quickly.

"What do you think I can do about?" Wood said after the team had finished with their rants, "All we can do is play the cleanest game possible so that he has no reason to pick on us."

Iris on the other hand knew exactly why Snape was going to be the ref, he was concerned for her after the last game; Quirrel might make the same attempt to knock her of her broom as last time. She had noticed the man's lingering gaze ever since they had returned from break; it was disconcerting for him to take such interest in her when she knew what was behind that turban.

But his gaze had never been malicious, in fact if she had to wager on it she would guess that his gaze was more curious than anything else. But where the curiosity had come from she didn't know and what concerned her further was why he had gone from murderous to merely intrigued was of greater concern to her really.

She preferred an open fight if she could get one, that way the lines were drawn sharply in the sand; you could tell who your opponent was. Plotting and manipulations were more complicated, they blurred the lines and you couldn't tell who was friend or foe. She was quite certain that Quirrel or Grindelwald or whoever had considered her an enemy but now she couldn't tell.

But it was clear that speculating wouldn't solve anything and as the practice ended, Iris retreated to the changing room in a hurry to peel off her waterlogged clothing and took a scalding hot shower that turned her skin pink as she tried to wash the chill out of her before returning to Gryffindor Tower where undoubtedly someone would have vented and informed the entire House about the Potions Master being in the next game.

"You can't play in that next match, Snape tried to kill you last time!" Ron was saying vehemently as soon as she came through the portrait hole. "If Neville hadn't knocked him over you would have fallen for sure!" The redhead continued furiously, oblivious to the tightening of Iris' jaw as her ire flared up though she kept her temper in check.

"Oh ye of little faith," Iris retorted with a cocksure smirk that beliedhow she felt at having her quidditch skills insulted and the implication that she owed Neville anything, "I would not have fallen off my broom; I've more class than that. Besides, he'll be on the pitch in front of the entire school; I can't think of a safer place for him to be. If he tries anything everyone will see him do it."

Which was true, if anything she would prefer that Quirrel be the referee for the match, that way he really would be unable to interfere beyond giving out a few penalty shots to Hufflepuff. She was going to catch the snitch anyway, so what did a few extra points for them matter in the long run.

Ron was gobsmacked by her reasoning and after staring at her incredulously for a moment he thought over her words and had to concede the point, "Besides, if I don't play Gryffindor doesn't stand a chance; our reserve seeker is being kept off the pitch until he brings up his marks so he hasn't been to any of the practices."

The youngest Wealey boy flinched at that, they could take the House Cup this year if they knocked out Hufflepuff with a solid tally and he had enough animosity towards Slytherin House to want to see them lose. But before he could make any comment on it the portrait hole swung wide open and Neville toppled into the Common Room, much to Iris' amusement as she saw his legs bound with the Leg Locker Curse.

But Iris was the minority this time, very few people found the situation very funny as the Boy-Who-Lived was soon picked up off the ground and one of the older students performed the countercurse so that his legs sprang apart and he could bear his own weight.

Hermione approached as Neville waved away the attentions of his housemates, "So… what happened to you Longbottom?" the brunette asked as she kept a straight face though Iris could see the twinkle in her eyes and the repressed mirth as her shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.

Neville sent the Muggleborn a scathing glare as he looked for some sort of mockery behind the girl's schooled expression but he relaxed and turned his smoldering glare to Iris instead as she didn't bother to repress her open smirk. They had gotten better with one another since his apology but she wasn't going to let a moment to deflate his massive ego pass by without taking hold of it.

"Malfoy," Neville spat the name like a curse and the smirk dropped from Iris' face at once as her cousin's involvement, "He ambushed me by the library! He said he had been looking for someone to practice on!" The boy ground at the last part through clenched teeth as he fumed furiously.

She knew Draco, there was no love lost between the boy and Neville, he was quick to anger and even faster to draw his wand; evidently Hermione had come to the same conclusion since her eyes narrowed at the chubby boy. "Draco gives as good as he gets, did you provoke him or do anything that might have prompted an attack?"

Neville turned his glare back on Hermione and his fury was rekindled at the accusation in her voice, "I only said the truth; Snape shouldn't be allowed to referee the next match! He's a biased party and it would be unfair!"

The girls shared a look as they thought on how that confrontation had really gone, between Neville and Draco the situation had probably contained some rather colorful banter and knowing the Slytherin Prince; it would have set him off. He was very attached to his godfather, though few knew of that particular connection, and he would have met any insult against the man with poor temperament.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the raven haired girl could feel the headache that was forming behind her eyes as she predicted how the next several days would transpire. Despite the migraine that she was sure that was developing she stuck with the situation at hand while Ron offered the boy a Chocolate Frog.

"Why were you at the library Neville?" Iris asked suddenly as the boy swallowed and he looked at her with a mix of surprise and wariness; he glanced at Ron who shrugged and nodded his ascent and Iris could already feel where this was going.

"After I heard about what was going on, I left to blow some steam and do a little research that me and Ron have been working on since we asked Hagrid what Fluffy was guarding. That's the Cerberus' name by the way… in any case all we could get out of him was that it had something to do with Dumbledore and someone name Nicolas Flamel." The boy finally admitted in a quiet voice so that no one could over hear the conversation.

Hermione's eyes widened with recognition at the name and Iris raised her hand to shield her face in seemingly exasperation, in reality she was hiding the grimace that she knew was going to come onto her face as soon as her fears were confirmed. She was in a tough spot here; she knew that Neville and Ron would pursue this doggedly just as Harry had with his companions.

She already knew where she fit into the design as Neville looked at the card and held it out to her, "You collect the cards right? I've never been into that sort of thing…" he trailed off awkwardly as Iris lowered her hand from her face and plucked the card from his fingers, already anticipating the face of Dumbledore that would be staring back at her.

All she had to do was point out the information on the card and Hermione would rush off, setting into a chain of events that would culminate in Neville confronting Grindelwald. Neville was the one with the protection this time, he could take down Quirrel but he was an arrogant self righteous prick and if Grindelwald was like Voldemort then he would offer the boy unlimited power.

She didn't think that this Neville would be inclined to turn down the offer, not the way Harry had; too filled with hate to listen to anything the Dark Lord said. But this boy had been coddled, taught that he deserved power and status, that he was the most powerful wizard in the world. Would he be tempted by the offer of power? Could she risk it?

In point of fact, she could; because Neville wasn't the pure hearted savior. The Hat had told her as much when she had been sorted; this boy could never look at the Philosopher's Stone without wanting to use it for his own purposes, he would not be able to draw it from the mirror just as Grindelwald wouldn't be able to.

With that information curling the corner of her lip into a smirk she read the card, "Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel." With the words falling from her lips, Hermione squeaked with excitement and rushed up the stairs of the dorm as she told them to stay put.

She returned moments later with a massive tome in her arms, open wide as she searched through the pages for whatever it was she was looking for while muttering under her breath, "You should have told me you were looking for Flamel weeks ago when I checked this out of the library!"

It didn't take her very look as her frantic page flipping stopped and she jabbed a finger at a passage, "There! Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!" She said excitedly, her voice tinged with triumph at her success though the blank faces of their male compatriots served to frustrate the girl.

"Honestly, opening a book every once in a while would do you some good!" She muttered darkly to Neville and Ron as she rolled her eyes and gave Iris another one of those glances that spoke volumes wordlessly before she glanced at the page and reread the section so that she could paraphrase it succinctly.

"Alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance that will transform any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of a Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently known in existence belongs to Nicolas Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixth-fifth birthday last year."

Ron and Neville were staring at the brunette with wide eyes and they shared a knowing look, "No wonder _he_ wants it! Anyone would want it!" Neville muttered as he turned his thoughts to the Stone and Iris could all but see the cogs in his mind spinning wildly as he contemplated what he could do with infinite gold and immortality.

She had very little to worry about it seemed, just deliver the boy into the jaws of the beast and watch as the beast turned to ash with indigestion. Neville would never get the stone out of the mirror, but Quirrel would definitely throttle the boy in frustration and that would be the end of that particular nuisance.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK <strong>

**February 22, 1992**

The day of the Quidditch match, Iris couldn't be more chipper as she was escorted to the locker rooms by her friends which seemed perversely strange to those around her. The last time she was in the air, she had nearly been thrown to her death and this time she had Snape as acting ref and he certainly wouldn't be doing the Gryffindors any favors.

But she couldn't bring herself to care overly much, not when she had her parents near at hand, not when she had Neville playing along with her machinations, not when Quirrel had demoted her from foe to threat, and not when she was about to leave the Hufflepuffs so sour with defeat that their faces wouldn't be straight for a week.

She completely tuned out Wood's speech as she slipped into her uniform and hefted her broom onto her shoulder with a confident smile that seemed to be contagious as all of her teammates adopted even as the Captain pulled her aside. "I don't want to pressure you Potter, but we need early capture of the Snitch! Finish the game before Snape can pull the match from under us, got it?"

"Geez! I think the whole school is out there!" Fred exclaimed as he was peeking out of the locker room and up into the stands, "Blimey! Even Dumbledore came out to watch!" George said as he joined his twin at the entrance to peek out. Iris joined them and gazed up to the teacher's box to see that the twins were indeed right; the silver beard was unmistakable, even from here.

She nodded her head in satisfaction at the confirmation; it meant that Quirrel was going to be playing from check for this game; unable to make a move without leaving his king exposed. She recalled that her friends would be keeping their eyes peeled for anyone that would be trying repeats of last match, that had been practicing the Leg Locker Curse ever since Draco had used it on Longbottom and were ready to fling it at just about anyone.

"Alright then ladies and gents, what do you say to going out there and knocking those Puffs on their arses, eh?" Iris asked with a wicked smile that left Wood with a look of satisfied vindication, "That's the spirit Potter! Let's teach those rodents that you don't mess with a lion without getting mauled!"

The team gave whoops of agreement as they took to the field with a spring in their step as they moved to the center of pitch with Snape and waited while the Hufflepuffs got themselves into formation. The Potions Master had a positively severe look on his face as he kicked open the chest with balls, the Bludgers shooting up and the Snitch racing past them while the man took hold of the Quaffle and blew the whistle to start the game.

Iris shot up to the top of the pitch while the Quaffle was tossed up into the air and Alicia Spinnet snagged it before the Hufflepuff Chaser even got close enough to threaten her possession.

Up in the stands though, four pairs of eyes were staring out at the crowd for the telltale signs of unblinking eyes and moving lips that would indicate another attempt to curse Iris' broom. Unfortunately, it seemed that the assailant in the crowd wasn't the only threat they had to watch out for as Pansy Parkinson jabbed Hermione in the back of the head as she took her seat in the stands behind her.

"Whoops, sorry about that Mudblood, didn't see you there." Came Parkinson's nasally voice, "Potter is awfully high up there, how long do you think she'll last before she loses her broom this time?" The girl inquired maliciously which caused Hermione to go rigid while the Slytherin and her companions laughed over her vindictive words.

"I'm warning you Parkinson; say one more thing and you'll find yourself in need of some new lips." Hermione growled lowly but the threat cut through the crowd and Pansy paled slightly at the affront, no doubt imagining what Hermione could do. It was one of the reasons why the threat of torture was often more useful then torture itself, give a person something to think about and they're mind will come up with options far worse than you could.

While this small altercation was going on in the stands, Iris was scanning the pitch for the Snitch; she needed to end this game quickly, no matter how much she personally liked Snape there was only so far she trusted the man when it came to being impartial with her fellow Gryffindors.

As it was he had already given the Hufflepuff team a free penalty shot for no reason, though it was evident from the frustration etched on his face that he was having a difficult time of observing the match and watching out for threats to her person.

Still, she was intent on snuffing the Puffs handily which meant a total shutout…

Iris' thoughts trailed off as she saw a spark of inspiration and she entered a steep dive, not quite her vertical stoop but close enough that the crowd was up on their feet and watching excitedly as the girl gave chase, her wild black hair streaming behind her like a battle standard.

"Oh, looky there Mudblood; it seems your pal has spotted a bit of gold, perhaps she's been bewitched to think the Snitch is growing out of the pitch and she'll break her neck as she hits the ground?" Pansy stated whimsically with an almost dreamy air as if she were day dreaming about that very thing happening.

Some people don't know when to quit while they're ahead and Hermione was more than accommodating when it came to keeping her word as she wheeled around and jabbed her wand in Pansy's direction with a half muttered, "Engorgio." The effect was immediate as the Slytherin girl's lips blew up dramatically in size, inflating to the point where her top lip had effectively covered her nostrils and her bottom lip was now hiding her chin.

The girl shrieked in terror as she saw the horrible distending of her mouth through the corner of her eyes and she fled from the stands, Millicent following close on the girl's heels casting furtive glances back at Hermione's glowering eyes.

Unfortunately, the confrontation cost Hermione to miss the end of the game as her friends sprung up and began yelling happily. Turning back to the pitch, the brunette was able to see her best friend hopping off her broom from a good foot in the air with the Snitch held triumphantly over her head.

"Bugger it all, I missed it…" Hermione groused to herself as she followed her friends down to the pitch as she cast a look over at the announcer's stand to see the final tally for the game. Two hundred to zero, Gryffindors favor with the match lasting just seven and a half minutes long; she figured that must be some kind of record.

Iris was soon surrounded by cheering faces, all of them celebrating her victory and her spectacular dive; she had dropped from the top of the pitch and pulled Cedric Diggory after her as he followed directly behind her. She hadn't spotted the Snitch then but she was hoping the other Seeker would pursue as she drove to the ground and then pulled back sharply less than a meter off the ground.

Diggory didn't have a chance as he slammed into the ground in a boneless heap, skimming over the ground with a self satisfied grin before she actually caught a flash of gold and shot up on a collision course with Professor Snape.

The man had turned to the girl with a wide eyed look of surprise before she had dropped at the last minute and flown under the long fold of his robes. When she had emerged on the other side she had the Snitch in her hand and she flashed the Potions Master a toothy grin.

She was being congratulated from all sides, faces were blurring together and all she could do was smile proudly back at all of them until there was a break in the crowd and she could see straight through to the edge of the pitch.

_He_ was there, for a moment the man from the mirror was there; his thick, silky black hair undulating softly in the breeze as he stared at her with a proud smile upon his lips. But as obsidian orbs met emerald, that man vanished and in his place was Professor Riddle; regal and aloof as he gave her a small nod in greeting but his face had become bored and disinterested once more.

She wanted to scream, wanted the man in the mirror back instead of that wintry suit, she _wanted…_

But she smiled at him and for everyone that was around her that smile was triumphant and jubilant with the golden Snitch held proudly over her head as the crowd closed in around her. They surrounded the eleven year old girl with her wind tossed hair and face flushed from the exhilaration of the game; they lifted her and carried her back to castle where the Gryffindors would celebrate another impeccable victory and the advantage of the House Cup.

Riddle watched the mob leave as the pitch emptied, the din moving away until he was locked in silence with the sun slowly making its gradual fall towards the horizon, his gaze never leaving the spot of ebony that he knew was Iris Potter; not even when a familiar purple turban appeared on the edge of his vision.

His mind puzzled over the girl, trying to figure out how a child who was so expressive and easy to read was unreadable. He wondered because he had been staring into those emerald eyes when she had smiled and that smile had never reached them; those expressive and unguarded eyes had revealed to him a grievous mourning and sense of loss that he could not fathom.

Something in him coiled and an icy fury welled up from deep inside him, so cold that his body ached and his breath steamed on the spring air and the very ground beneath his feet was covered with frost. Something had hurt that girl, wounded her deeply and he didn't know what it was; he could not unleash his furious might upon the one that had inflicted that pain because he did not know who it was.

The Dark Lord Voldemort was a wrathful, malevolent being with enough power that he could snuff the life out of a man, a hundred men even and he feared nothing between the heavens and Earth. So why was he powerless now? Why was he unable to protect his servant, his spy in the lion's den, his future weapon against an invisible adversary?

It enraged him, made him furious beyond his control and understanding and so he clung to that icy fury; plunged himself in that numbing cold and surrounded himself it, took it into his very being until he felt nothing but the frigidness.

"Restrain yourself Voldemort, it will not do to have you discovered now; on the cusp of the fruition of our plans." of Grindelwald's hoarse voice hissed softly, muffled by the layers of fabric that shrouded the face of one of the world's most fearsome wizards.

Eyes turned upon Quirrel, eyes that were the shade of dried blood on snow, and watched as the possessed man shivering with blue lips and pale features as the very air around them was chilled to freezing. With enormous force of will, the cold receded from the area until only Voldemort himself radiated a frightful cold that burned to come near.

"How long before you are prepared to go after the Stone?" Voldemort asked quietly as he turned his gaze back towards the castle and watched as the last of the crowd slipped into the massive stone structure.

"It is difficult to estimate, I have discovered Sprout's and Flitwicks' challenges and the mutt is easily taken care of but the other instructors here are proving entirely more difficult to coax any information from especially Snape." The Muggle Studies professor replied with a scowl as he remembered that he had an 'appointment' with the overgrown bat in the woods before too long.

"Do take care not to terminate the Potions Master; we can little afford an inquisition into his disappearance." Voldemort pressed softly, he knew that there was a deep hatred for the Potions Master that resided in Grindelwald since Snape had indirectly caused the man's separation from his physical body.

Voldemort was of the opinion that it had been Gellert's own fault for giving the Longbottom woman a choice to step aside, the Sacrificial Protection was an archaic defense that hadn't been used since Arthur's court and even then it had been sparingly used; few were so protective that they would willing die to save another.

"It will be trying as it always it but I've managed six months, what are a few more months if it means being restored and then I can be rid of him for good?" Grindelwald asked rhetorically as he spotted a darkly clad figure emerging from the castle doors and striding furiously towards the woods. "Ah, the dungeon bat emerges for a twilight flight; take care my Apprentice. And do watch over the little one for me."

Voldemort smirked at Grindelwald's pleasantries as Quirrel fled for his meeting, it was quite absurd that the man could observe any kind of civility but the man had been charismatic once; enough to throw Europe into turmoil over his views. Still it incensed him to be thought of as the man's Apprentice, their positions had been reversed over a decade ago and still the man could not see the difference; still he had said at least one thing truly.

He would have to watch over Iris carefully and unravel this new mystery of her newfound sorrow, he could not stand weakness or failure in his followers and she would be more important than all the rest in his return to power.

As his eyes settled from crimson to their usual obsidian, he cocked an eyebrow as he watched a second figure emerge from Hogwarts cautiously, whoever it was mounted a broom and seemed to be following after Snape. An interesting development to be sure, but not one of particular concern; Grindewald could handle himself and after all who would expect Quirrel of anything.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**March 28, 1992**

Time passed quickly as it is wont to do when you least want it to but it was to be expected considering the amount of activity that was trying to fit itself into every day.

Iris didn't complain though, she was biding her time as it were waiting for Quirrel to make his move and knowing that he was running short on time. The Muggle Studies professor had steadily been getting thinner and paler as the school year dragged on, and after Neville's little stalking mission after her Quidditch game on _her _broom; he and Ron were of the opinion that he was protecting the Stone from Snape.

She didn't bother trying to shake them of their illusion, it would have been futile considering the absolute detest that Neville had for their Potions Master and the knowledge that it was a mutual hatred. It would never occur to the boy that Snape was the 'good guy' in this situation or any situation for that matter.

So she had simply watched as he and Ron had been silently encouraging the Muggle Studies instructor, Ron going so far as to defend him from those who insulted him as a result of his stutter. If only those two knew who was really under that turban but she couldn't divulge that information without overplaying her hand.

Instead, she had joined Hermione as the girl threw herself headlong into her studies as she anticipated the exams that would take place in ten weeks. She had been coming up with revision schedules and organizing her notes which had proven annoying to no end for their fellow first years in Gryffindor though Iris couldn't help but notice a number of Ravenclaw students doing the same, in groups no less.

By the time that Easter holidays had rolled around, the students had been so inundated with class work that even Iris was having difficulty completing the assignments because of the sheer quantity of it all. It was frustrating how time consuming the trivial work was, she could perform any of the spells in her sleep; the only challenge she found now was in brewing as it required absolute focus and strict discipline in getting it right.

Getting the work done had forced Iris and her circle of friends to become near permanent residents of the library, their heads buried in textbooks for information to answering some very vague questions that required more supplemental reading than it really should have.

So that was where they had been when Hagrid had come out from between the shelves of the books and Iris was filled with a sense of foreboding as she recalled this same-but-not scene from Harry's memories.

The half giant was immediately engaged by Ron and Neville who were sitting a few tables away, staring intensely at her book she strained her hearing to eavesdrop on the conversation, and hoping against hope that things were different this time around. But she could only catch snippets of the talk from where she was sitting, most of it being Hagrid shushing the two schoolboys as they spoke too loudly, allowing her to pick up on the words "Flamel," "Fluffy," and "Stone" before Neville bid Hagrid farewell.

Looking over the edge of her book, Iris could see the man walking away as he cradled something behind his back; and she wasn't alone in her observations. "What's he hiding under that coat?" Draco wondered aloud as Ron slipped away from his table and down the stack where Hagrid had emerged.

The boy had rushed back and whispered something to Neville as Blaise watched interestedly, the Italian watched the boy's lips moving carefully. "Dragons, Hagrid was looking up something about dragons; specifically a dragon keeper's guide." He said after the boy had finished speaking and he and Neville cleared out of the library.

"I recall Hagrid mentioning something about wanting a dragon when he fetched me for my first trip to Diagon Alley with my parents. I suppose if he really wanted one he would have to know how to take care of one." Hermione suggested as she returned to her reading, marking notes on a piece of parchment after she came across something interesting.

"Good luck to the bloke, not only is it dangerous to own a dragon; which is a misnomer really since you don't ever really own a creature that can turn you to charcoal by sneezing, but it's also against the law." Daphne said solemnly as her eyes took on a far off look and she shuddered to herself.

Iris remembered that story fairly well; Lady Greengrass had been the former head of St. Mungo's Burn Ward and was accustomed to cases of dragon burns from Gringotts handlers; turned out one of the creatures had taken ill and a handler that had been taking care of it had been turned extra crispy by a sneeze.

Daphne had been shadowing her mother for an assignment and the incident had given her nightmares for weeks, despite the therapy she had undergone the girl still couldn't abide the smell of burnt meat.

Over the course of the next couple of weeks it became increasingly apparent that Ron and Neville had something else on their minds as the two became increasingly tight lipped about where they were spending so much of their free time but Iris between Iris' foreknowledge and some Slytherin cunning, Blaise had caught their slips and confirmed that Hagrid did in fact have a dragon egg that he was trying to hatch.

At breakfast, Neville's familiar barn owl dropped in with a letter that had immediately been shared; as Draco rose from the Gryffindor table where he had sat with his cousin for a friendly conversation he had paused to listen in on Ron's hushed but excited voice before Neville could silence the redhead and glower at the blonde. As he walked away he slipped a hand through his hair and Iris felt her charm bracelet warm up against her skin.

She recalled that Draco's pendant was set into a cufflink and the boy had obviously been practicing how to use the item without drawing any attention to himself. 'Clever boy,' Iris thought to herself with a pleased smirk as she planted her elbow on the table and began curling a strand of hair around her finger as her pendant settled by her ear and Draco's voice whispered almost inaudibly, "It's hatching."

Looking across the great hall, her eyes met silvery grey and she gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. She wasn't sure what to do with the information, she had no loyalty to Hagrid here; not like Harry had loyalty to him, but neither did she wish the man ill.

The half giant was a capable handler for most magical creatures but she knew that this baby dragon would require all of his attention and it was going to interfere with his duties as a gamekeeper, but those were his concerns not hers.

No what really concerned her was what other students would do with the information, as it seemed that her newest nemesis had become Parkinson; the little chit had been increasingly antagonistic since the Quidditch game when Hermione had nearly suffocated the girl by enlarging the girl's lips. She had to admit, it was more creative than breaking someone's nose but she doubted it was as satisfying; but all that it had prompted were several nasty retaliations.

It seemed they could go nowhere now without a pack of Slytherin girls hounding her or Hermione unless they were with their own Slytherin friends; which unfortunately was very little until classes came to an end for the day. Even Fridays had become trying as the double block of Potions provided the girl with plenty of opportunities to snipe at them though she couldn't risk sabotaging any positions without adversely affecting Draco or Daphne.

The major threat was to Neville, apparently the boy had developed something of a crush on Iris since Halloween; he was driving her absolutely mad about it too. If Parkinson wasn't hounding her, then Neville was as he had wormed his way into Ron's tutoring sessions, had taken to watching all of the Quidditch practices and was constantly trying to partner up with her in most classes.

When she had confided in Professor Riddle the Neville had become besotted with her after taking sanctuary in his study, the man had given her the strangest look before he had schooled himself back into that bored neutrality that she had grown to hate. Still, she admired the man's intelligence and when he was talkative he had proven to be a remarkably vast compendium of knowledge that she could pick at and so she put up with his mask.

In return for sanctuary and the information she could extract from the wrinkles of his brain, he had asked to be kept apprised of any information regarding Longbottom and considering that the man was the Deputy Headmaster and by extension the Headmaster's man she could see that his interest in the boy savior was probably more than polite interest and more in the realm of professional security.

Returning to the point however that was Parkinson, she had taken to needling and sniping at Neville by using Iris as bait; without fail she managed to rile the boy up as he leapt to defend her honor. In the past month he had been trounced by Crabbe and Goyle more times than anyone wanted to count, the fights were never one sided but they hadn't been particularly well fought battles either.

What was worse was that she had taken considerable interest in the recent secrecy that Neville and Ron had been displaying and the one thing that Iris had learned most assuredly from her own experiences was that secrets didn't take long to figure out when you had Slytherins trying to dig them out. Blaise and Draco had proven that point rather handedly in the past two weeks.

So if Pansy were to discover or reveal the dragon's presence to the right people and frame it just right as no doubt she would, then it was quite possible that Neville would be in serious jeopardy of being removed from Hogwarts for breaking the Warlock's Convention of 1709. While he might get some lenience as the Boy-Who-Lived there was no way he would got off cleanly, not if Fudge wanted to be reelected.

Which left Iris in the precarious position of protecting the boy from his would be adversaries, a task she did not particularly relish.

As it was, all she could do was wait and wait she did; for a week Ron and Neville spent the majority of the time down in Hagrid's hut attending to the dragon that had hatched there, doing everything in their capacity to keep the half-giant's secret safe but Pansy was like a shark in the water sniffing blood and circling.

It wasn't long before Ron met with a dragon bite, a momentary lapse with a dead rat in hand and slow reflexes had earned him a painfully swollen appendage that had turned green at the edges. By the following day, his hand had ballooned to twice its normal size and was leaking pus as the puncture wounds had begun to turn black.

"Ron, you've got to get it checked out; that isn't a normal cut and it's definitely infected!" Iris had chastised the redhead as he nursed his hand and cradled it protectively against his chest. The boy had looked extremely reluctant to go to Madam Pomfrey, knowing she would ask about how he had gotten the injury.

"Look, just tell her you got bit by a dog or something; she won't get you in trouble but you need to get it looked at!" Hermione insisted quietly from his other side, having cornered him in an alcove of the Common Room he was forced to concede the point.

By the end of the day, when Iris and Hermione went to check up on the boy he was in nasty shape as pain wracked his arm from shoulder to hand in time with his heartbeat, "Bloody hell, it feels like my arm is going to fall off any minute!" The boy hissed painfully between clenched teeth as the two girls came to the edge of his bed.

That certainly wasn't normal, if Ron was in this much pain then surely Madam Pomrey would have given him something to dull the pain, taking a look around the matron was bustling around in her office with a look of worry etched into her brow. Unless of course, she was afraid to give him anything that might work counter to his ailment and worsen his condition; and he certainly wasn't going to tell her what he was bitten by.

Following her gaze with pain glazed eyes, Ron seemed to come to some sort of decision as his hand clamped down around Iris' wrist with a desperate strength that left her wincing from the pressure, she could have broken his hand for it but that seemed a bit cruel considering his state. He tugged gently until she lowered herself so that he could whisper in her ear.

"Hagrid has a dragon, midnight Saturday Nev is going to take it to the top of the Astronomy tower. You have to help him, there's no way he'll be able to manage it on his own!" The boy whispered urgently, his voice tight from the effort. Pomfrey bustled over quickly with several potions and quickly kicked out the Gryffindor visitors so Ron could get some rest.

His eyes never left Iris as he stared at her beseechingly, just at the threshold she turned to meet his eyes and gave one firm nod and the relief it gave him was evient as his entire body relaxed. She had already planned on getting involved as a silent partner but now she was going to be directly involved and that meant greater risks.

She knew full well from Harry's memories what getting caught on Saturday would mean and this time she didn't have the invisibility cloak or the Marauder's map to navigate stealthily; she couldn't disillusion herself either without showing she could do some rather advanced magic for a first year.

She was thinking up plans all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, determined not repeat the same mistakes; she understood that mistakes would happen but she endeavored never to make the same ones twice, it meant you hadn't learned from the first time and that was something she could not abide.

"What if we arranged it so we wouldn't be out of bed without permission?" Hermione said as they rounded the corner on the seventh floor corridor that would lead them to the Fat Lady, Iris turned to her companion with a thoughtful expression.

"Revision for Astronomy, Professor Sinistra might give us permission to be up there. It'll be a waning moon so we'll have more starlight and we could disguise the dragon with astronomy tools." Iris suggested as she picked up Hermione's train of thought and continued it as she tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully.

"She might even give us extra points for filling out a star chart that evening." Hermione said with a smile as they back tracked and headed for the professor's office by the Astronomy Tower.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**May 10, 1992**

By Saturday, Hermione and Iris had gotten permission from Professor Sinistra and Professor McGonagall to revise for Astronomy; they had even convinced Percy to escort them to the tower to get the full semblance of legitimacy to their task.

When they had informed Neville that they would be taking the dragon of his hands for the delivery the boy looked so relieved that Iris was afraid he might actually try to kiss her and as he moved forward she grabbed him by the face and pushed him back into his seat.

"We promised to help you for Ron's sake, don't get any ideas." Iris had informed him with a clipped voice and watched as the boy's shoulders sagged in defeat, rolling her eyes she and Hermione had climbed through the portrait hole and descended down to Hagrid's hut.

They greeted the man warmly as he cracked open his door to see who was there, when they explained that they were taking Norbert up to the tower that evening he got teary eyed as he crated Norbert, and blubbered quietly to the dragon about being good for Charlie and that his Mommy loved him. The scene was rather endearing since they weren't in any risk of getting in trouble over this evening's escapade.

With their telescopes packed away in Iris' bag the two girls returned to the castle and met Percy at the in front of the Fat Lady; he eyed the crate for a moment curiously and Hermione informed him that it was their telescopes and equipment. He took the answer at face value since Iris had already put a wordless Silencing Charm on the box that wouldn't draw any attention if Norbert started moving about.

So far the plan had gone on without a hitch, they made it to the seventh floor without any difficulty as they hadn't come across anyone and as they walked behind Percy they came across Pansy being dragged away by McGonagall. "There they are Professor! They're out of bed too! And they have a dragon in that crate!" The pug faced girl shouted as soon as her eyes landed on the two, which caused the Gryffinder duo to giggle at the accusation.

McGonagall gave the girl's sharp look but it was tempered by the small smile that tugged on the corner of her lip, "Not that it's any of your concern Miss Parkinson but Misses Granger and Potter have gotten permission to revise for Astronomy this evening and they are being escorted by Mr. Weasley. The notion that they have a dragon is absolutely ridiculous, twenty points from Slytherin for making up such outrageous lies and detention!"

The stern Transfiguration professor looked at the redheaded prefect, "Carry on Mr. Weasley, I'll be taking this one to Severus. Have a good evening girls." Her voice was considerably softer for her Gryffindors as she led Pansy away by her ear, the girl struggling futilely while Iris waggled her fingers at the girl with a victorious smirk on her face.

Percy looked bemused at the interaction but didn't say anything, instead he simply dropped the girls off at the tower; "I'll be back to pick you up around 1 and since it'll be a bit chilly up there I had George fetch you a little something from the kitchens." From his robes, the prefect pulled out a large thermos and handed it over to Hermione. "Hot chocolate with a good stasis charm to keep it hot all night."

After thanking him, the prefect walked away and they watched his back until he turned the corner, "He might be a prat sometimes but you have to admit, when you're in his good graces he certainly looks after you." Iris murmured quietly to herself while Hermione nodded, "I think it's because you schooled Fred and George when they took his badge, he owed you a favor."

With that, they climbed to the top of the astronomy tower and set down the crate that had Norbert in it and then busied themselves with setting up their telescopes and laying out a blank star chart that they were going to fill out for Sinistra.

They weren't out there long before four broom riders descended from the darkness above and settled down on the Astronomy tower, they were a pleasant lot and they took the time to reassure them that they were taking all the necessary precautions with the dragon, even showing them the special harness they had that would allow them to carry the dragon between the four of them.

Transferring Norbert into the larger transport crate that the group had brought, along with the rats, brandy, and the remains of the shredded teddy bear that Hagrid had included; they even casted a quick _Scourgify _on the crate so they girls could actually use it to take down their astronomy gears in case it was checked. After shaking hands with the four riders, they flew off and Iris and Hermione turned to their work and hot chocolate.

As good as his word, by the time one AM rolled around, Percy climbed out onto the top of the tower to check up on them and see that they had nearly finished their star chart. He didn't offer to assist them with the work since that would be cheating, but he likewise didn't urge them off the tower until they had completed everything and he helped them pack away the telescopes and bi pods into the crate and even carried it down for them.

Filch was waiting for them at the tower entrance obviously hoping to catch students out of bed that weren't supposed to be and he had looked extremely disappointed not only that the First Years had a prefect escorting them but they had a note signed by two professors giving them permission.

All in all, the evening went off perfectly without anyone being the wiser until they returned to the Gryffindor Common Room and found Professor McGonagall looking quite sternly at Neville who was staring back at her furiously, "I told you, I wasn't wandering about I was looking for Iris to warn her that Parkinson was trying to get in her in trouble over the dragon!" The boy was all but shouting at the woman and looking for all the world like a child throwing a temper tantrum… which was exactly what was happening.

The Transfiguration instructor looked up when she heard the portrait close and crooked a finger at the girls who had just entered along with Percy. "Thank you Mr. Weasley, you are dismissed, now Misses Potter, Granger… while it is not unusual to find a student out of bed and fabricating outrageous stories to get out of trouble; it is quite another thing entirely when two students from two houses are found wandering about in the middle of the night using the same story."

Hermione winced at the harshness in the woman's voice and even Iris had to admit that the woman could be quite fearsome when she was upset, though at this point she couldn't bring herself to cower at the woman's temper; she distinctly recalled staring death in the face on more than one occasion to fear any sort of fear from the woman before her.

"Do you have any insight on how this predicament came to be?" McGonagall asked coolly as she swept her imperious gaze over the students before her and noted that while Hermione was fidgeting nervously, Iris was staring back at her with a look of cautious indifference.

"Well Professor, I believe you know full well the only explanation for this; we told Pansy that we were going to take a dragon onto the Astronomy tower at midnight, obviously Longbottom heard the story and determined that we were serious and went to warn us about her trying to get us in trouble." Iris said with a reluctant shrug as she seemed to give up the goose.

Hermione was staring at her wide eyed in disbelief and Neville looked hurt, mainly because she had lied to a teacher and because she hadn't backed him up with the truth but to McGonagall those were the expressions of a student having been ratted on and another feeling betrayed so she accepted the story as it was told.

"Thank you for telling me the truth Miss Potter, while I don't condone your actions there is nothing in the rules about students telling stories to one another and you did have permission to be out tonight so I can't hold you at fault for anything. As for Mr. Longbottom however, I cannot say the same therefore twenty points from Gryffindor for being out of bed and a detention as well." McGonagall stated with an air of finality as she gave the boy a sharp look before marching out of the Common Room leaving the three standing in the middle of the room.

Iris looked at Neville and could see the hurt in his eyes, he had wanted her to back him; because it was far more glorious to escort a dragon to safety under the nose of professors and students alike and to save Hagrid's job then to play a prank on another student and get them in trouble.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation, she had hoped that she had been making progress with him; curbing the influence of his stepmother and to some extent she had but he was still that glory seeking, attention hungry child that he was at the beginning of the year. He had just gotten more polite.

She was too tired at the moment to care overly much about his delicate sensibilities and he was to enamored with her to remain hurt overly long, not when his fans approved of the two time Quidditch hero and rising star of Hogwarts, not when it served to boost his status by having her in his circle of friends.

So instead she turned away from those hurt, puppy eyes and climbed up to the girl's dormitory; she changed into a comfortable nightgown and then slipped between the crisp linen sheets of her four poster bed and drifted off to sleep after closing the curtains around her and biding Hermione good night.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**May 26, 1992**

The days continued as always after their adventure with Norbert, having avoided the disastrous events that had occurred in Harry's universe she didn't have any need to worry about insults or slander being directed at her. The twenty point loss that had occurred over night for Gryffindor and Slytherin had been attributed to some sort of fight that had occurred between the rival houses.

As for how Neville was holding up, he had stopped talking to Iris for the moment; instead he watched her from afar and had been working the rumor mill to soil her name, to little effect though certain Slytherins had taken up the banner and were doing their very best to make her life as annoying as possible.

It suited Iris just fine, with Longbottom effectively keeping himself out from underfoot she was having a much better time of things though she had yet to shake his constant attentions she was content with him simply watching. Plus, the only Slytherins whose opinions mattered to her were the one who were in her circle of friends and they had yet to turn on her; for the most part they had been policing the other Slytherins, Draco had gone as far as to use his influence to quell most of his housemates.

She was thankful for their intervention though it wasn't necessary, she had inherited Harry's thick skin so some name calling made behind her back wasn't about to upset any delicate sensibilities and send her bolting with tears in her eyes nor was it going to send her flying off the handle and get her in trouble.

Her adventuring had produced some unintended consequences however since Professor Riddle had apparently discovered the rumor that she had snuck out a dragon and had found the story convincing enough to believe it. On the other hand, it was Hagrid they were talking about; if anyone could have made the half giant trip up and spill the truth it would be the Deputy Headmaster.

He had been quite upset with the 'stupid risk' she had taken or at least she had thought he was upset, it was hard to tell when was stoic and aloof in his condescending tone. Still he had gone on at length about her lack of good sense and her damnable Gryffindor brashness, even when she explained how she had devised the plan and executed it flawlessly; he didn't so much as smirk.

Instead he had seen fit to give her a detention for her 'impertinent behavior and complete disregard for personal safety' to be served at a date when he could conceive of a punishment that would be sufficient enough to cut her lion's share of reckless behavior down to more appropriate levels befitting a student of her status.

He had not elaborated on what he meant by a 'student of her status' but she did discover that he had arranged her detention to be served at the end of May, a scant week before the beginning of exams. A date she was quite familiar with, because it seemed that no matter the fact that Neville had escaped it, she was destined to enter the Black Forest.

She made a silent prayer to Hecate, that if the goddess ever came across Fate she would give the fickle entity a slap for being maliciously vindictive.

So eleven o'clock Iris left the Common Room after biding Hermione a good evening of studying with Neville in tow, it seemed that after a month of sulking the chance to be alone with Iris had finally done hi in and he could not stop talking. He was going on at length about how he had overheard Quirrel having an argument with Snape, and how the Muggle Studies professor had finally caved.

The words brought up a clear memory of Quirrel fleeing from a classroom straightening his turban and she paused to look at the boy carefully, "What did Quirrel say Neville? I mean exactly, what did he say?" she questioned as her eyes bore into his, wishing that she could use Legilimency and not just Occlumency.

"I only heard bits and pieces, I think he said 'no, not again, please' and then he agreed, sobbing though; definitely forced into whatever it is that Snape wants him to do." The boy was excited now that he had actually gotten Iris' attention focused on him, and she knew she would regret giving him the incentive but the words that came back with the memory were suddenly painting the situation in a new light.

Quirrel was fighting Grindewald, however ineffectually the man had not been doing this of his own free will and she had watched him deteriorate ever since she had gotten back from the winter holidays, he was looking paler every day with his skin almost translucent with large bags under his eyes. He had gotten more than a few concerned glances from the students and staff in the last couple of weeks and she had heard tell that he refused to see Pomfrey.

Now it made sense, he had finally conceded to killing another unicorn; since apparently he had done it at least once before. Unicorn blood could keep one alive, even from the brink of death and so it would sustain Quirrel's body while his physical form struggled to hold two warring souls within it. The idea made Iris shudder, had she and Harry not merged their cores and consciousness then she might have found herself in a spot not unlike Quirrel's own.

Arriving at the Entrance Hall, Iris caught sight of Argus Filch and Pansy Parkinson waiting for them by the entry doors to the castle. The man gave her a scathing look before his features twisted into a grotesque smile; displaying his crooked, yellow, and broken teeth as he took on an air of sadistic glee at punishing not just two but three students; two of which being the Golden Child of the Wizarding world and the other the Gryffindor's rising quidditch star.

"Come on then, no time to dawdle," Filch said through his maniacal smile as he lit a lamp an pushed open one of the massive double doors and led them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking the rules again after this night is through. Oh, how I miss the old days when hard work and pain were the best teachers; you could string a boy up by his wrists and leave him hanging from the ceiling for days with just his screams and thoughts for company." The caretaker leered at the children as he spoke, his voice sounded wistful though edged with cruelty.

Iris wondered what about this disgusting man had convinced Dumbledore to keep him on his staff; there were certainly no redeeming qualities about him that she could make out though he was rather friendly with Professor Snape. Maybe his purpose was to put the fear of God into the students, make the idea of getting in trouble so unappealing that no one would want to break the rules.

She supposed preventative measures like that would be useful for such a large institution but the notion that the school had once allowed corporeal punishment to be used against its students seemed like a faraway time and place. Easily older than the Squib anyway, he couldn't be much older than sixty and he had only been caretaker for twenty years; and her parents had never mentioned any student getting hung by chains in their days.

The man was probably thinking of medieval tortures, Hogwarts was a castle after all; undoubtedly it had seen conflict before, otherwise why make a castle and not a palace? Castles stood on high ground and defended against attack, palaces were large and grand, made to look awesome and inspiring. So there was definitely some macabre history in the stone walls of the school, but something that had lasted a millennium would not be the cleanest of places.

They marched across the school grounds, which looked beautifully serene when cast in moonlight; the silver light reflected off the lake and bedazzled they eye as dew covered grass refracted the soft glow in a thousand points of light. They were occasionally cast into total darkness though, as the clouded sky crossed before the half pearl that hung in the sky.

Ahead, Iris could make out the illuminated windows of Hagrid's hut and the half-giant's deep rumble as he called, "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

The sound of Hagrid's voice had an immediate effect on Neville, how trailing behind Iris had looked especially forlorn and lost after Filch's words suddenly seemed to perk up and color returned to his face in a rush that should have left him lightheaded but didn't.

"Don't look so pleased boy, if you think you'll be having a good time with the oaf; think again! It's off to the forest with ye and it'll be quite a shame if you return in more than one piece." The caretaker hissed spitefully and Iris was quite sure that she would never come to like this man as a student. Dumbledore had chosen wisely if he wanted a man so blatantly off kilter to dissuade students from ever wanting to spend any amount of time near him.

The words had the opposite effect on Neville though as he swelled with bravado before Iris and a gleam of adventure sparked in his eyes while Pansy paled considerably and came to an abrupt halt, "We can't go into the f-forest, it's forbidden… and it's filled with creatures like werewolves." The girl said with an odd stutter that was probably caused more by her body's trembling than any kind of speech impediment.

Iris smirked to herself in the darkness, werewolves held no fear for her; the moon wasn't full, hadn't been since two weeks past and with an uncle like Moony she had long since been unfazed by the threat they possessed. That wasn't to say that all werewolves were like Remus, Greyback certainly wasn't, but the majority of them were just people who had been dealt unfair cards and had to play them as best they could.

"Aye and worse than that be lurking in them woods, but that's your problem now isn't it? Should of thought of those beasties before you went and broke 'em rules." The caretaker was all but cackling with glee, the sight of Pansy; a pureblood heiress, trembling in fright had probably made the Squib's week. He was certainly a very crude man but maybe there was something redeeming about him.

Hagrid melted out from the darkness, Fang his boarhound trotting at his side and a heavy arbalest in his hands along with a quiver of bolts hanging against his hip. Clad in his usual moleskin coat and his thick beard, the groundskeeper seemed far more in his element than he had ever been before; it was evident to Iris now that the massive man had a certain kinship with the wildness of the wood.

"Abou' time yer showed up, I bin waitin' fer half an hour now." He said as he raked his gaze across the group and noted Iris and Neville, he didn't greet them as of yet; no doubt because Filch was there, but he did see Pansy trembling frightfully, her eyes wide with fear as she glanced out at the darkness beyond them with almost heart stopping terror.

"Bin lecturin' them, have yer? 'Snot your place ter be doin' that, it is! Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here." Hagrid frowned at Filch and while he never raised his voice at the other man it was obvious that he had disapproved and chastised the man because of it.

Filch looked at them nastily before speakig, "I'll be back dawn, for what's left of them." With those parting words, he turned on his heel and started back towards the castle, his lantern bobbing steadily as he walked away.

Iris half expected to hear Pansy make some kind of retort about how she wasn't going into the forest much like Malfoy had in Harry's universe, but one glance at the girl and it was clear that she was scared beyond her wits and in no condition to mount any kind of protest. Curiously, Iris extended her senses towards the girl and she was suddenly able to taste an acrid sourness like too ripe fruit and suddenly she understood what the smell of fear was.

She was faintly pleased for some reason, as she turned her senses towards Neville she could taste it on him as well; not as strong but there under the false bravado that he was displaying to impress her. Only Hagrid, Fang and herself were absent the taste; the first two had enough experience in the wood that it wouldn't scare them and as for herself. Well, did she really have anything to fear in the wood?

"Right then, listen carefully, 'cause what we're doin' tonight is dangerous an' I don' want no one takin' risks." Hagrid began as he led them over to the very edge of the forest, his lamp held high and casted a circle of light all around them. He pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared among the thick black trees as a gust of wind came out of the forest and lifted her hair from her face and shoulders.

"Yer see that silvery stuff out there, shinin' on the ground? That's unicorn blood, and that means there's a unicorn in there that's bin hurt by summat right badly. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing, might have to ter put it out o' its misery." The words were spoken gravely, and there was a clear expression of saddened determination in Hagrid's eyes that left it up to anyone to see how painful such an act would be for him.

"What if we find the thing that's hurt the unicorn first?" Neville asked, to his credit his voice was calm and steady masking his fear well; but it was also apparent that he was eager to fins the beast too. If Iris could peer into his thoughts, she was quite certain that she would see some fanciful imagery of him slaying some draconian beast while protecting some fair maiden that looked like her. She thought she'd prefer to be in the dragon's horde than let Neville mount some sort of heroic rescue for her.

"Nothin' that lives in the forest will hurt yer so long as yer with me or Fang," Hagrid replied as he looked over the group that was assembled, evaluating them for a moment before he continued; "We're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over ter place so keep to the trail, it's probably bin staggering around since yesterday."

Pansy seemed to come out of her reverie at this point as she focused on Fang's sharp canines and she all but threw her arm around the massive dog's neck. The creature shied from her for a moment but quickly snuffled her hair and gave her a reassuring lick on the cheek, which seemed to calm her with the normalcy of the action. The whole event would have been comical in a different light, but it was evident to Iris that the Slytherin would need the dog if she wanted to get through the night sane.

Hagrid seemed to notice as well since he nodded, "Alright then, Nev you go wit' Parkinson and Fang an' I'll take Iris wit' me." Neville looked at Iris for a moment but she stepped beside Hagrid without a moment's hesitation and he looked back over at cowering Pansy. He was visibly warring with himself, but it seemed that the day dream of rescuing a damsel in distress was more likely to happen with Pansy as his companion than Iris.

The groups separated and moved out, the forest was pitch black and silent as the grave save for the rustling of leaves as the wind cut through the boughs overhead and their footsteps fell onto the carpet of foliage that littered the forest floor. When the clouds were clear, rays of moonlight fell onto patches of silver blue blood that had congealed on the ground, Hagrid paused for a moment and bent down over a particular puddle and touched the substance.

"Cold but not dry, still a fresh trail; the unicorn can't have gone far hurt like that." He muttered to himself in that voice like water running over rocks; Iris too knelt beside the puddle of blood and dipped her fingers in it, sending her senses down into the cool, slippery fluid as she ran it over the pads of her phalanges.

She could feel the magic in the lifeblood, it was powerful and strong and exceedingly clean, uncorrupted by anything but below the wash of magic she could sense the now familiar scent of fear put it was a sharper fear; a terror as the unicorn fled for its very life. "You'd be surprised Hagrid, this unicorn was frenzied with fear; it wouldn't have stopped running until it collapsed." She informed him quietly as she pulled back her senses and met his curious gaze; it was evident that he wanted to know how she knew that information.

"I can sense things like that; Professor Riddle says I'm sensitive to magic in a way that most people aren't, that I use my magic like a sixth sense that is stronger than all the other five put together. Supposedly all wizards can do it but it requires a 'profound understanding of what is you and what isn't' as if it was hard to know what I am and what I'm not." Iris gave the childish explanation that Riddle had given her, it satisfied Hagrid and he even chuckled a bit at her commentary.

Contrary to her attitude, Iris understood far more deeply what Riddle had meant; to turn one's magic outwards was to metaphysically feel the world around you and that required an ingrained knowledge of who you were and differentiate where you ended and the world began, and vice versa. Many a powerful sage had been lost for years at a time as they struggled to find themselves amidst the swirling mist that the world became when seen through your magic.

As they pressed on, Iris was suddenly very aware of the sound of moving water and knew that they were by a stream of some kind and then she was struck by the silence. The forest was as silent as the grave and she knew it shouldn't be, a forest; especially one as old and saturated with magic as this one should be alive with night sounds.

She froze and listened, Hagrid did the same as he swept a bolt from his quiver and slipped it into the notch of the arbalest; he was a woodsman and knew without direction when to listen and when to move. They peered out into the darkness around them as the sound of something ghosting over leaves carried in the silent air, the sound of a cloak brushing the ground but without a body to connect the sound to all Iris could tell was Grindewald was about.

After a moment the sound passed and Hagrid nodded to himself, "There's summat in here that shouldn' be." He murmured as he looked down at Iris and jerked his chin forward and the two stalked forward quietly, a feat that was far more difficult than it would seem.

Moving quietly in the woods took a great deal of skill and required much training, for her the training had been early since she had all but lived in the woods around the Potter Manor and she could move through that tangled underbrush like a phantom.

So here the half-giant and an eleven year old witch were moving through the woods in utter silence as they strained their hearing for sound and they were rewarded before long when in a clearing ahead came the definite sound of movement.

Striding forward into the clearing, Hagrid issued his challenge; "Who's there? Show yerself – I'm armed!" Iris stayed to the shadows of the trees, letting her wand slip into her hand as she moved into a spot if undergrowth and peered out into the clearing from cover.

A centaur strode out of the woods to meet Hagrid in the clearing, down to the waist was a man with long red hair and a heavy beard; his chest was broad and rippling with muscle and she was sure that his back would be just as muscular, the skin moving like a film of water over the powerful cords that hid just under the flesh.

But below the waist was a horse's chestnut body with an equally red tail, and while Iris was not an expert in horseflesh she would have put money down that this centaur could outmatch just about any stallion in a race with the same rippling mass of muscles hiding under the sleek and shining fur of his flanks and forelocks.

"Ah, it's you Ronan, how are yeh?" Hagrid greeted with a sense of relief as he lowered his crossbow and waved Iris out from her hiding place; she took some care to holster her wand before she emerged from the underbrush, striding to join the gamekeeper in the clearing where she bowed politely to Ronan, though she never took her eyes of the centaur.

"Good evening Hagrid and to you, young one," Ronan greeted, his voice deep and sorrowful as if he was on the verge of giving into despair or about to sing a dirge. Considering what was going on this evening, either activity was as likely as the other. "Were you going to shoot me?" The centaur asked as his bright brown eyes fell upon the weapon in the man's hands.

"Can't be too careful tonight Ronan," Hagrid returned evenly as he patted the arbalest as if to reassure himself that it was still there, "Summat bad is loose in this forest. But where are my manners, this here is Iris Potter; a student up at the school."

The centaur looked at her appraisingly before his settled on her eyes and the two woodland colors met, wariness was evident in both of them but Ronan was the first to break the silence before it could become tense. "A student are you? Do you learn much at the school then?"

"New things every day, though I suppose that would be the point of a school." Iris replied cordially and she could see the centaur's lip curl approvingly at her response, casting his gaze up to the heavens he seemed to weigh the stars for a moment.

"It is good to hear that some students learn," he replied with a faraway voice before he seemed to say what really interested him, "Mars is bright tonight."

Iris looked up into the heavens and gasped softly at the image, the night sky at the moment was clear of clouds allowing one to see all of the night's heavenly glory; pinpricks of light from thousands of stars twinkled and the cosmos was filled with hues of amethyst, crimson, opal, and navy blue and the stars themselves seemed to shine like diamonds casting out thousands of different shades of light that defied description as the spectrum of color could not contain the innumerous motes of celestial radiance.

But Hagrid's words cut through the stark beauty, "I'm glad we've run inter yeh Ronan, a unicorn bin hurt; you seen anything?"

Iris ripped her gaze from the night sky to see that those bright brown eyes had been focused on her as she had stared up and as his eyes caught hers he spoke, "Always are the innocent the first victims, so it has been for ages past, so it is now." And _so it will always be _those words had been left unspoken but they hung in the air all the same and Iris nodded her head, acknowledging the truth.

"Yeah, but have yeh seen anythin' Ronan? Anythin' unusual?" Hagrid asked with a look of frustration and exasperation, and somehow Iris got the feeling that he was used to dealing with the curious ways of the centaurs but that he wasn't actually hearing the words they were saying.

Perhaps that was the wrong way of putting it, he had heard the words but he had listened to them, hadn't listened to the meaning.

Ronan never took his eyes off Iris but he seemed to know full well what she was thinking since he nodded his head and repeated, "Mars is bright tonight… unusually bright."

And Iris who was now excelling at Astronomy sent her gaze skywards once again and she found the planet in its orbit; but to her eyes it wasn't exceptionally bright at all. On the other hand, she doubted the centaurs were looking at the stars the same way she was and she reached down into her core and pulled up tendrils of magic to her eyes and suddenly the world was different.

The night sky was muted and instead she could see at least a part of what Ronan was saying, as Mars shone brilliantly and cast the sky with a tint of red the color of blood and as she stared upwards; she could almost see the light stirring and melting into shapes and for one moment in the hues of blood and slightly darker blood she could see a horse running through the forest before something pounced and wrapped itself around the creature's neck and tear out its throat.

Tearing her gaze from the vision she _saw _the Forest, every tree pulsing with life as sap ran through the wooden trunks, the very air seemed to be alive as a mist swirled through the air and was breathed in with every breath; Hagrid was outlined brilliantly but there was a spot in his core that looked blackened and dead, Ronan too was shining brightly though his eyes seemed like beacons.

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual bit closer to home," Hagrid said as he exhaled in a sigh, "So yeh haven' noticed anything strange then?"

Ronan took a while to answer as he was examining Iris with a newfound interest, had the half-giant turned around then he would have seen Iris' eyes glowing a brilliant Avada Kedavra green much like how Ronan's eyes were a bright brown topaz.

In Ronan's eyes' he was staring into eyes that blazed like a green sun as they saw the world for the first time, stripping the world of it masks and seeing down into the truth. Behind the girl was an inky blackness that swirled and writhed, and he was sure that if he peered too long into that shadow he would be swallowed whole.

And then the shadows stirred and he could see two golden eyes staring out from behind the girl, through the girl even and he wanted to cower, to bolt, to hide, to kneel, do anything that would move that gaze from him and he knew that Iris Potter was more than a talented witch, she had been Chosen by Magic herself to fulfill something and that the world would shudder and bow before her will.

"The forest hides many secrets, Hagrid; you know this better than most." Ronan finally managed to say as the golden eyes seemed to shine approvingly before the gaze was turned elsewhere and he found himself releasing a breath that he hadn't known he had been holding while his heart was beating as though he had just chased a mare through the woods for a mile.

Behind Ronan came more movement and Hagrid raised his arbalest in a smooth arc that steadied on the point before a second centaur emerged from the woods, this one was larger and more powerfully built then the first; almost like his black haired skin would tear if he flexed to hard. Still his hair fell like a man down to his horse half and he had an edge of wildness that made Ronan seem tame.

More discerning were his eyes; they were not the same brightly lit topaz as the first but dim ochre and even in Iris' vision those eyes seemed like weak candles when compared to Ronan's though she did not know that in his vision her eyes made his seem like the bare glow of firefly.

"Hullo Bane, all right?" Hagrid greeted the newcomer as he lowered his crossbow back to his waist level.

"Good evening Hagrid, I hope you are well." Bane returned politely, his voice deep like Ronan's but possessed of a greater joy, almost as if his voice was a trotting colt with the eagerness to gallop but not quite daring because there wasn't enough room.

"Well enough. Look, I've just bin askin' Ronan, seen anythin' odd around here lately? A unicorn's bin injured; would yeh know anythin' about that?" Hagrid replied, his voice was getting just a bit ragged as his nerves were frayed from the other centaur's riddle like speech.

Bane moved to stand beside the slightly smaller Ronan and cast his gaze skyward, "Mars is bright tonight." He said as he looked back down at Hagrid, though Iris was certain that he was hiding a smile as she could see the muscles behind the planes of his face fill with something that resembled static.

Hagrid harrumphed at that, "So we've heard, well if either of yeh see anythin' would ya let me know? We'll be off then." The half-giant bade the two centaurs farewell and Iris left the clearing on his coattails she paused briefly at the edge of the clearing to give them a bow farewell before following after the large man while her eyes dimmed back to their usual emerald though they seemed a lighter brighter than before.

"Mother Night and Father Wood! What have I done?" Ronan said hoarsely as he looked at the other centaur who was staring at him strangely, his ochre eyes looking questioningly at the Gazer. All centaurs were star gazers, able to see small inklings of the future, but amongst them were those truly blessed with such vision that they could see beyond all others.

"I do not understand Ronan; you said that you had seen the girl in the sky and that it was not an unblessed sign." Bane replied unsure of what had spooked his advisor and friend; the two had grown up side by side for as long as he could remember and he would not have been the leader of his herd without the other's help.

"I saw her reflected in the moon but when I gazed upon her truly and she Gazed upon the world for the first time I _saw_ in her Shadow the Gaze of the moon. She was Chosen, marked to bring change to the world and I shudder to think that for her the very Wood would uproot itself at her command and the stars realign if it pleased her." Ronan said as he trembled and his eyes stayed glued to where Iris had vanished behind the pillars of the trees.

Bane had long since learned to differ to his companion in regards to celestial warnings had learned some more terrestrial truths, "Change is necessary to life my friend, when things cease to change it is because they are dead. We have known for too long that this stillness with the wizards would come to an end, perhaps this is the change we need so that the Long Spring might finally come around."

Ronan just nodded at that, "I pray you are right Bane, because if she is not the one to bring us the Long Spring then I fear that I have just armed Winter and the winds she brings will be colder and harsher than any we have ever felt before."

And as he stilled into silence, the night air was rent asunder by the shrill cry of terror that sent the roosting birds in their nests to wing and quieted the night creatures.

"Who was watching the other group?" Ronan asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern as he recalled the rather unattractive filly that had entered the woods alongside the chubby colt and the hound.

"I sent Firenze to watch them, he has always been curious of people; though I never understood why. However, I fear that after this evening I will share a marked interest in humans as well; or at the very least one of them." Bane responded as he led the roan back into the woods.

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><p>By the time that Hagrid and Iris had come to the clearing with the dead unicorn, Pansy was been tended to by Firenze; after her death rattle she had fainted in terror and Neville had been incapacitated by pain as he had come within close proximity of the unicorn killer.<p>

The sight of the dead unicorn had been both beautiful and saddening as it lay on its side in a pool of its own lifeblood; its brilliant white color seemed to push the darkness of the forest back and its horn seemed even more brilliant as it burned with the remainder of its magic, an ethereal lantern that should have been shining like star as it defended itself. Its golden hooves stuck out at odd angles as the creature had broken itself trying to flee from its attacker.

Somehow, standing beside the creature now, Iris felt a tugging at her heart as tears rose unbidden to her eyes as she stroked the unicorn's pearly white mane as she was filled with a terrible sorrow. Hagrid had examined the unicorn and quietly told her that it was an old mare, she had birthed many a foal in her long life.

Her fingers traced delicate lines along the majestic beast's coat and she looked absently at the horrendous gash where its throat should have been and she understood that she had seen in Mars' light the act of bloodshed and conflict. She would remember this sanguine lesson; she knew that for sure, that no matter what she would remember that lesson.

When Pansy and Neville were ready to travel, Hagrid and Iris had stared at the unicorn uncertainly; it seemed wrong to leave the creature like that. Such stark beauty in such a dark and foreboding place, lying twisted and bloody, frozen in the midst of its death throes.

"Firenze, may I take her horn?" Iris asked quietly of the centaur, she could immediately feel her schoolmates turn their gaze upon her in horror and shock; they were probably thinking how much a unicorn's horn sold for at an apothecary along with its tail hairs. Firenze seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he turned his sapphire gaze upon her in rage but when he had been met with those fiery emerald orbs, burning with the light of Gazer he subsided and nodded, now curious as to what she was going to do.

Iris lowered herself beside the unicorn's head; her back turned to the others so they could not see her as she crooned soft words of comfort to the unicorn's unhearing ears as she ran her left index finger around the base of the horn with a feather light caress and then seemingly lifted away the bony protuberance away.

Firenze had never seen such a careful or gentle use of magic before, and as Iris walked away from the clearing with the unicorn's horn held tightly in a clamped fist, he watched as it seemed to become increasingly brighter in her hand and he could only imagine what it was that she was going to do with it.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So I'm going to come right out and say this, I thought this was going to be the most boring chapter so far, until I hit the Forbidden Forest and was struck by the potential this scene had. As it turns out, very little of interest goes on between break and the forbidden forest scene, just the set up for Harry to go into the woods.

**Next Chapter: **_Going after the Stone_


	9. Chapter VIII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: I have been pleasantly surprised by the audience and reviews that I've garnered since this project of mine began, I never once thought that I would have so many people subscribing to my story or actually reading it. Thank you all for tagging along on this journey with me, your reviews keep me motivated and writing.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter VIII**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**June 12, 1992**

Iris never discussed the events that happened that night in the Forbidden Forest but it didn't prevent the events of the night from being spread around, though it was certainly from the perspective of Neville and Pansy since the account of the night never mentioned the meeting with Bane or Ronan for which she accounted a small blessing.

Hagrid was entirely too trusting and prone to let things slip but he would never delight in telling a story that would culminate in death. She suspected that he had confided in the Headmaster though since none of her professors had pressed her for any information or whether or not she wanted to talk about it.

That didn't dissuade others though and she often found herself being pressed for information until she was worked taut and ready to snap, it didn't help that they had begun their final examinations either. She had found herself writing essays for classes with a zeal and insight that Harry had never possessed, and she was good at it.

She had never looked too hard at it but testing like this rather forced such a train of thought, academically Harry and Ron had depended on Hermione to get by with the seats of their breeches but Iris was not only capable of holding her own but she was actively competing with her brunette friend for the position of top student, a difficult task when they both scored straight O's on their written assignments though Iris had proven more capable in regards to practical examinations.

Her exemplary marks didn't change the fact that she either returned to the Common Room drained from a day of testing, or she was returning from a day of review or study for the next exam that was coming up. She would just as gladly be done with it all but the teachers reviewed and tested at their own pacing; Binns for example had insisted on lecturing down to the very day before their exams but thankfully it was just an objective exam for his class.

McGonagall had proven more interesting by far to test for considering that her practical exam had required them to turn a mouse into a snuff box, she gave extra points for prettiness but she took away points for partial transfigurations. Iris had learned or maybe it had been Harry, that transfiguration worked better when you framed the image in your mind and then willed the image outwards onto the target. It went without saying that Iris' snuff box had been one of the best that the Professor had ever seen, though it was debatable whether it was her imagination or will power that pulled the spell off.

Potions had been the most rewarding though because of the nature of the practical exam all the students were separated and had to work on their own to produce a Forgetfulness Potion. Rather ironic to be sure since most were struggling to remember how to brew the concoction, but Iris managed to prepare and brew a potent brew; Snape had long since assigned her a more advanced textbook too keep her interested and experimenting safely.

Still, her exams only occupied her time and mind for so long before the rest of the student body returned to gossip. It seemed that Pansy had begun to spread a tale that she had ruthlessly snapped the horn off the dead unicorn to desecrate the corpse of the animal, Neville had woven a different tale of how she had whispered to the dead beast and it had relinquished the horn in death to her.

She had yet to deign anyone with a third account of events but she had made it clear after a third year Slytherin had offered to purchase the horn for a handful of galleons how she felt on the topic. The girl had to reschedule her Divination exam after she was taken to the Hospital Wing with a pair of black eyes swollen shut. Madam Pomfrey had actually had difficulty lowering the swelling though one could argue whether it had actually been difficult for the healer or if she had just allowed the girl to get her just desserts for being insensitive and belligerent.

Despite the events going on, Iris had been keeping an eye on Neville; far more discreetly then he had managed to do when their roles had been reversed. She took note of the swagger he moved about with and knew he was scared out of his wits, he had been more on edge since that night in the woods and she knew why.

He had faced off with Grindelwald, if his encounter had been anything like Harry's then he should fear the Dark Lord might barge in on him at any moment; not far off on that mark either though the boy didn't know that.

She had also taken interest on his reaction to the near constant pain of his scar, she recalled how Harry had a nearly constant searing burn but to look at Neville you wouldn't be able to tell. She had to give the boy credit where it was due, she half expected the pudgy boy to be incapacitated with pain but besides a little testiness he had otherwise been the same annoying and stuck up brat that he usually was.

He had gotten better about it with his other Gryffindors, it had taken a while for the lions to drill through his ego and more than a few pranks but they had finally gotten the boy to more endurable levels of snobbery within the house and his continuing infatuation over Iris had tempered his edges enough since it was well known that she resented his posh superior attitude.

It didn't dissuade him from returning to his habits when he was mixing with the other Houses though, especially on a day like today; sweltering hot and sunny without a cloud in the sky. It seemed everyone had fled the castle today to spend some time out on the grounds decongesting after spending the past two weeks in stuffy classrooms taking exams.

He was wandering about the grounds, his friends at his side and his troupe of sycophants and fools tagging along behind him at his heels. The distinction between the two was plain to Iris, Neville talked and joked with his friends but he commented and strutted for the others. It was like watching a juggling act, one moment you could see through the flaky exterior that the boy had up for the world to see and you could see the lovable child that was there; the next second he was picking out some random Hufflepuff and lighting him up with a jinx to the general amusement of his followers.

Iris and her usual circle were just as happy to be out of his way and enjoying the tranquility of the day by the lake, sitting under the boughs of a weeping willow that stood on the edge of the water. Draco and Blaise had shed their robes and were lounging about in the tree happily sucking on Ice Mice that Narcissa had sent along with his birthday present.

The fifth had been his birthday, so they had gotten together on the sixth to celebrate his birthday since it was a Saturday; he had been thoroughly glutted to bursting on sweets and cakes and he had enjoyed his presents from everyone, especially the silver pin for his robes that Iris had gotten him; a serpent wrapped around a piece of flawless alexandrite.

Daphne was seated with her back against the trunk with a novel open on her lap, knowing the girl it was just some light fluff to help her relax from the testing. Hermione was likewise sprawled in the grass, she seemed to be half dozing in the shade but she kept making comments about the answers to the test and being reassured by the honey blonde Slytherin.

As for the raven haired girl, she was sitting comfortably in the shade of the tree amidst its twisting roots with her back pressed against the cool bark; smoothed by generations of students who had taken the same place as herself, her shoes and socks lay beside her as her feet dangled into the water below her. If the castle's landscaper was still alive she would have thanked them for creating the small seat where she was sitting.

Unfortunately for them, it seemed that Neville had spotted them at last as was cutting a swath through the grounds as he moved towards them; when Iris spotted that self-assured, cocky grin on his face she could feel a sinking feeling in her gut as her stomach fell beneath her. She knew that grin, it meant he was about to do something really stupid and considering the drawn face of Ron and the sulk on Lavender Brown the dread she felt coming on was tangible.

This was not what she needed, not today; not when she could see the owl winging overhead towards the tower that held Dumbledore's office.

"Looks like we've got a couple snakes hanging about, no doubt they're trying to poison these Gryffindors against their own." Strangely enough it wasn't Neville who had spoken but a fourth year Gryffindor that Iris couldn't think of a name for; she hadn't interacted with many of the older students unless they were on the Quidditch team.

"Such adept observational skills, do you think he hurt himself trying to come up with that Blaise?" Draco replied with his trademark drawl and his sneer of distaste as he looked down at the older boy from his seat in the boughs.

"Look how furrowed his brow, the set of his jaw, the pinched skin around the eyes; I do believe the boy is in the utmost agony Draco." The Italian commented with a suave little grin as he brushed his dark hair back from his face and settled an imperious gaze upon the bothersome intruders.

Iris could see where this was going, Neville didn't know enough to go up against Draco and Blaise on his own but a few of his fans might. With an aggrieved sigh, the girl slipped her glasses off her face and pinched the bridge of her nose as she prepared herself for what was about to come. But as she opened her eyes and replaced the lenses, she saw a look in Neville's eyes the spoke far differently than his countenance.

His eyes were willing her to see something, to give him, they were beseeching her; he turned his head to look at Hagrid's hut and the meaning became clear. Like Harry, this insufferable boy had put together the pieces to the puzzle and come up with the same answer; or had he? Iris remembered Harry being struck by a bolt of inspiration after he had felt a nagging feeling that he had forgotten something he needed to do.

Looking up to the castle where she had seen the owl flying, Iris saw a shock of silver in a window pane high above them; turning her gaze back on Neville she reached out with her senses as she had become practiced to doing and she tasted his magic. The scent of pine was abundant but below it she detected the smell of spoiled milk and too-strong perfume, and something else.

Deeper, buried under the rest was another scent; faint and old, musty, like a mold and there was a taste of dried ink to it. That particular touch of magic sent a small rush through her, not as strong as she got from Riddle but there was a likeness to it that was familiar and not entirely displeasing. That was disconcerting, because she knew almost assuredly that that particular bit of magic was the piece of Grindelwald's magic that accompanied the piece of his soul.

Pulling her senses back, Iris wondered if just maybe she was mistaken and she had all but tuned out the bickering schoolboys when she heard a plaintive whine from Lavender as she had been forgotten in the midst of all the activity and a small crowd of onlookers had gathered to see the spectacle. She didn't pay it any mind though, but she considered the insight that Lavender had provided and she reached forward and _plucked_ Neville's magic and she could feel the vibration of his magic as it hummed.

Neville shuddered and stiffened as though a cold gust of wind had run down his spine, but Iris was listening to a hidden music that no one else could hear. The pluck had produced curious music and she knew that she was _listening_ toNeville; a thousand notes all happening simultaneously but defined with the deep echo of the organ, the lilting harmonics of the lute, the whisper of the flute but in the midst of the harmony was a note of discord.

The feather light touches of a harp, the sharpness of a cymbal, and the steady pounding of a drum; the music wasn't bad, but it didn't fit the concert and it vibrated as though from a far way off and she traced the thread of music back to the tower and the silver hair that glistened in the afternoon light before it disappeared from the window.

So Dumbledore did have a hand in this, she had felt the thread of him in Neville and was sure that the boy was under a feather light compulsion that was so finely woven amid the hundreds of thousands of threads that wove the tapestry of who the child was that it would be futile to try to find where it began and ended.

But to what end? Why would he trust the Philosopher's Stone to set of defenses that a group of First Years could defeat? The only obstacle in that dungeon to someone as powerful a Dark Lord as Grindelwald was the Mirror. But was he aware of the Dark Lord hiding amidst his staff? Or was he simply fulfilling a promise to an old friend and protecting the Stone?

Many questions with no answers in sight, conjecture and hypothesis aplenty, but no answers.

But the situation had progressed far enough, one of Neville's fourth year goons drew his wand and the crowd of onlookers had swelled, drawn to the conflict as remora to a feast. Iris rose from her seat of roots, silent and graceful; the image of pureblood stateliness and decorum. Taking from her cue, Hermione and Daphne rose as well and moved one to each of her sides.

Iris did not speak at first but she met the eyes of the two boys that had broken the tranquility of the summer day that she had been enjoying and resenting them for it as she knew that it would be the last bit of such peace before she became a piece on the chess board and the hands of many would seek to use her in earnest.

"I don't know what possessed you to come around here and start this little debacle; but since you've drawn your wand in anger I will answer your challenge. Daphne will be my second while Hermione adjudicates the duel." Iris said clearly, her voice carrying easily through the sudden quite that her actions had produced.

The eyes of many watched as Iris invoked old Protocols that had not been used in close to four hundred years. The old ways of the purebloods was not just religious sentiment, but codes of conduct that had governed magical folk ages before the Ministry of Magic had ever been conceived.

The Fourth Years stared at the girls as though they were some sort of hydra that had mysteriously appeared. They glanced between themselves, the boys in the tree, the girls before them and the crowd of onlookers. In private, they might have backed down from there course but with so many watching they nodded their heads in ascent.

It would take a deft handling of the events to defuse the situation now, or the springing of a trap that had been carefully prepared for just one of these occasions. The girls had long since devised of a way to handle those who had threatened to break up their circle.

"As adjudicator, I see little need for combat; there is no honor in this combat with the odds being so disproportionately in the favor of the challengers. I invoke the right to declare a champion to fight in their stead; Neville Longbottom will fight in place of Iris Potter and Ron Weasley in place of Daphne Greengrass." Hermione was sharp as ever, playing her role perfectly and picking up where Iris had left off and changing the field.

Now the Fourth Year goons were staring at their ringleader in dismay, they knew they had been caught soundly in a trap that they had blithely walked into. For Neville, the turn of events left him startled and he glanced at the older boys angrily for dragging him into a mess that he had plainly been the originator but had not wanted to soil his hands with.

The boys lowered their wands and pocketed them as they looked at Hermione and Iris, "We withdraw our challenge and beg your pardons for allowing our tempers to get the better of us." Once the Potter heiress gave them a nod of acceptance, they turned on their heels and strode away as quickly as they could manage without breaking into a run.

Iris turned her gaze turned to Neville's troupe coolly and cocked an eyebrow in silent challenge, daring them to start something now that she had just finished dealing with the others. They too backed away from the eleven year old girl mumbling farewell to their leader and the crowd of onlookers dispersed once the prospect of a fight was well and truly snubbed out.

When at last the area was finally clear, Iris spoke to the sole remaining people; Neville and Ron. "Next time you want some alone time, dismiss your own Court; don't involve me or mine." The words were said amicably, but you could feel the frost behind the words and he responded the only way that seemed fitting. The portlier of the two bowed deeply before rising awkwardly though he could see the faint curl at the corner of her lip that showed the she approved of the action.

Somehow, that filled him with a sense of pleasure that shot directly to his groin but he turned away quickly and marched off to Hagrid's hut, cursing himself mentally all the while Ron followed closely behind him.

"Bloody hell, what was that all about?" The redhead asked furtively as he caught up to Neville's long strides and fell in beside the boy.

"I needed to get away from all the hanger-on's but couldn't do it without insulting some very precarious personalities. Iris was kind enough to provide me some assistance without actually looking like she was giving me any." Neville replied, 'In fact she nearly had my own people attack me for want of appearing noble.' He thought to himself as he felt warmth flood his cheeks as he flushed from the impropriety of it all, she was far too clever to have been in Gryffindor.

"Looked more like she was trying to get you put up in the infirmary. Rather cold of her isn't?" Ron asked as he rubbed his arms briskly to emphasize his point.

"I'm fairly sure everyone there thought so as well; there's a lot more cunning to that girl then any Gryffindor should have, makes me wonder how brave she's got to be to wind up with the crimson and gold." Neville replied with a shrug, but his thoughts were drawn elsewhere by the discourse.

"I remember Nan telling me a story once; about a witch so strong she locked the world in winter and never let the spring come. 'Her gaze will suffice to turn blood to ice in the veins of men, her words will stop the seasons if bade to cease, and her sorcery will turn the Moon's gaze and put all man into their graves just as the Sun put them all into the cradle.' Nan was always full of stories like that." Neville recited the words from the fairy tale his grandmother had read him when he was younger.

"My mum used to tell me those stories too; I could never remember the witch's name though, I just remember calling her the Queen. I remember mum getting real made at me for that though, she used to say that only Dark Wizards would ever call someone like that a queen. She never did use her name either; I think she just called her the Bad Witch." Ron said as he reminisced about his own childhood bedtime stories, it suddenly struck him as very queer that his mother would tell him such a tale; she had never been one to scare her children unless they deserved punishment.

Neville paused on the side of Hagrid's cabin and looked at Ron for a moment before looking back at the weeping willow, "Well, I don't know about the whole world but Iris could take the heat out of Brandon and Royce. I didn't expect her to be so quick to use the old ways, she even told me to take control of my Court; you believe that?"

Ron pondered that for a moment while he scratched the back of his head, "I suppose I'd be pretty stupid not to since she did it and all. On the other hand, what else could she have called all of 'em? It's plain as day that they ain't your friends." The redhead finally said with a shrug and rounded the corner to greet Hagrid. Neville didn't move for a few moments more, instead he watched as a certain ebony haired youth left the shelter of the willow tree with her quartet of followers.

"I have a feeling that there's more to it than that." He muttered to himself while his gaze never came away from Iris until she disappeared into the shadow of the castle's great entry doors. Shaking his head, he rounded the wooden cabin and looked at the half-giant. "Hey Hagrid, can you tell me again how you got Norbert?"

* * *

><p>"Miss Potter, what are you doing inside on a day like today?" Snape's voice sounded out from behind them, giving Iris and her friends pause as they turned around to see the Potions Master. "Someone might think you were up to something if they didn't know any better."<p>

Iris looked at the professor quizzically and considered what he was getting at, sure she had broken a few rules this year but she hadn't gotten caught or in certain cases she arranged it so that she didn't get in trouble.

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression Professor, we were simply coming in to get away from the heat." That part was true enough, the day had been hot and while the shade of the willow tree had been cool she had no desire to stay around and see the furtive glances of school children looking upon her every few moments after she diffused a fight.

"Understandable, considering the heat of the day I heard that it was practically boiling by the willow tree." Snape responded and she could feel the bite of a trap as he steered the conversation. It would seem that word spread quickly in Hogwarts, though it didn't help that there had been at least fifty witnesses to spread the story around.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean sir." Iris replied quickly, feigning ignorance of the matter in the hope that he would let the subject drop but without meeting his gaze, she could tell that his eyes were smoldering with a barely controlled anger.

"Don't lie to me, Potter! And Look at me when I am talking to you!" Snape growled out as his eyes bored into the side of her head, but despite the anger he felt at being lied to the girl refused to look at him. Though he could not tell if it was because of shame or fear, forcing himself to control his temper he looked at the other students gathered around Iris and noticed that they were all staring at him reproachfully; Blaise especially was looking at him with a degree of iciness that bespoke of approaching hostility.

It seemed Iris had won these First Years over completely, his godson and two of his star Slytherins; if she could command such a fierce loyalty now, he could only imagine what charisma she would have when she was full grown. The implication in and of itself bore further thought on the matter though, he had already pledged himself to this girl for better or worse and he would have the better of it if he could help it.

"I beg your pardon Professor, but it is embarrassing for me to admit that I let my temper get away from me and I challenged some older students to a duel." Iris did not mention how the fight began or that she had used the old Protocols though this time she did meet his gaze, but what he saw weren't the emerald eyes of Lily Potter. These eyes were harder, fiercer than his gentle Lily and there was an edge of daring and challenge to them that made them gemstones; glittering brilliantly but reminding you that they had been forged under pressure and heat.

"That's quite alright child, we all lose control once in a while." The voice that spoke was old and learned, bearing much hard learned wisdom, "It can be disconcerting to let oneself slip, but that is how we learn; and once we learn we have control again." Dumbledore said as he came to stand beside the girl and reached out to pat her shoulder comfortingly, stopped when she shied away from his physical touch and then placed his hands behind his back.

That was curious, he couldn't recall the girl shying away from physical contact before but then again he had never seen her around anyone that wasn't her friends or her teammates before; he did know that she always got her ingredients first in class and was the first back in her seat, he had always taken it as an eagerness to do the work but now he wasn't so sure.

"Ah Severus, I've been called away by the Minister to handle some urgent business; as I understand it Tom is still in his office in the dungeons, would you inform him of my departure please." It wasn't a question of course but a politely phrased order; still the Potions Master could only nod in acceptance as he turned on his heel and made his way towards the dungeons with his robes billowing out behind him. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.

Dumbledore turned his sky blue eyes on Iris for a moment, though she was pointedly staring at her shoes, no doubt finding the shiny leather most intriguing under the Headmaster's gaze. Thumbing the ring of ruby he was wearing on his right hand, "I trust you'll keep Mr. Longbottom out of too much trouble while I'm away; won't you Miss Potter. It wouldn't do for such a temperamental youth to be injured by his bullheadedness." He said congenially, with a soft smile on his face as he watched some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders.

"Of course Headmaster, we wouldn't want anything happening to the Boy-Who-Lived." Iris said drowsily, almost hollowly as she nodded her head in agreement but her voice was so quiet that only Dumbledore could hear her say it, even her friends an arm's length away couldn't make out her words. The response pleased the Headmaster as he gave his grandfatherly smile before walking out of the castle and leaving the First Years behind him.

Iris startled in surprise when she felt a hand touch her shoulder but the smell of the sea and spices prevented her from lashing out, Blaise's touch lightened for a moment before there was a solid weight to it and Iris found a firm chest pressed against her back as she was pulled back into a comforting hug by the Italian. "Nessun problema leonessa, noi siamo qui." He muttered reassuringly as her senses returned to her.

It took her a moment to remember where she was and what she had been doing, "Sorry Blaise, I think the heat got to me; I totally spaced out just now." Iris said as she looked around for the Headmaster but found he had already disappeared from the Entrance Hall and she wondered when that had happened, he had just been next to her when he gave Snape an errand to run.

"We'll take you Madam Pomfrey then, she'll set you to rights in a heartbeat." Draco said absent his slow drawl and present was tone of concern and worry. Without so much as waiting for a reply, Iris found herself being guided through the castle and into the Hospital Wing before she was placed on one of the infirmary's beds while the Matron approached them.

"What's the matter with her?" the mediwitch inquired as she set about casting a few diagnostic charms on the girl, through the fog and cotton stuffed feeling in her head; Iris could hear Hermione explaining the events from being outside to bringing her to infirmary.

"Sounds like a combination of heat exhaustion and stress from all the testing…" Pomfrey stated as she fetched a goblet of chilled water and a vial of stormy grey liquid and muttered on about how these kinds of things happening all the time at Hogwarts as she comforted Iris' friends all the while. Iris slugged back the potion quickly, letting it contact her tongue as little as possible to avoid the taste and then she sipped slowly from the cold goblet.

She felt a refreshing charge work its way through her system and the muddled sensation she had experienced dissipated quickly afterwards, leaving her clear and lucid once more. The matron kept her for an extra hour or so to make sure she was fine, "You're very lucky that your friends brought you here so quickly, I've seen students so wiped by the heat that they couldn't get out of bed for days."

After she was given a clean bill of health, Iris was walked by her friends and cousin back up to Gryffindor tower. They walked slowly, carefully; she resented the treatment but she didn't rush or scold or give them dirty looks. They were worried about her, they had a right to worry about a friend and she let them worry over her until they were satisfied that she was going to keel over or shatter from a strong gust.

Daphne, Draco, and Blaise bid them farewell at the entrance to the Common Room and Hermione made sure that she was seated comfortably in one of the plush scarlet seats before sitting in one across from her and the two lounged about comfortably, talking and reading as the time passed them by.

All the while, Iris kept an eye on Neville and Ron as she waited for them to make their move; the two of them were constantly looking at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room as they waited for the hours to tick by as they played game after game of chess. Iris and Hermione had lapsed into silence by the time that Lee Jordan and the twins went off to bed near eleven o'clock; and she watched as Neville ran up to his dormitory and came back down holding a wooden flute in his hand.

Nodding to herself, Iris stood up and the motion drew the attention of the two boys as they both jumped and looked for a moment that they were about to shed their skins before their hearts settled to more comfortable palpitations. "Geez Iris, how about you make a noise next time; you just about gave me a coronary!" Ron wheezed as he clutched his chest dramatically to emphasize his point.

Hermione chuckled as she rose from her seat and moved to stand beside Iris, "You two are going out, Dumbledore told Iris to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn't get into too much trouble." The brunette stated and Iris felt a smirk turn up the corner of her lip, "So boys, what exactly are you up to?"

Neville and Ron passed a glance between the two of them before Neville turned to Iris and steeled himself visibly, "We're going after the Stone, Hagrid let it slip to us how to get past the three headed dog; he told whoever he got the dragon egg from the same information. It's no longer safe and we can't let Grindelwald get his hands on it!"

Iris took a moment to weigh his words and phrase her response; she would need to frame it just right to get Hermione to follow along, "I suppose that allowing Grindelwald to get his hands on the Stone would be more dangerous than not and Dumbledore isn't here to keep everyone in check. I suppose that letting one of the most feared Dark Lords in existence return to power would qualify as _too _much trouble; wouldn't you say Hermione?"

The brunette looked at her friend aghast but her logical mind began to process the information even before her emotional turmoil settled, measuring the problem against whatever internal moral system that she possessed the brunette nodded her head with an aggrieved sigh. "Yes, I would concur that it would be too much trouble and I won't doom us all by leaving these two to save us all."

Ron flushed at the barb but Neville nodded his head, "I won't turn down help; especially when it's from the two brightest witches of our year." Iris wondered for a moment what taste those words left in the boy's mouth, conceding that he would need help when his ego wouldn't let him ask for it.

She would have to take up her considerations later she supposed because once Neville knew they weren't going to rat him out and stand in his way, he was moving out the portrait hole. They had to descend four floors to get to the third floor corridor, and Iris recalled Harry's trip.

First they would have to dodge Ms. Norris and this time they didn't have an invisibility cloak to do it, since her father was holding onto it for his investigations; undoubtedly it was doing him more good then she could justify taking it for. Thankfully, Hermione had a solution for it; tearing at the hem of her robe until she had a good wad of fabric, she transfigured the cloth into a ball of yarn before rolling it past the cat.

Sure enough, the feline was quick to pounce on the ball; batting at it with her paws and hissing at it between bites. While she was occupied, the group of Gryffindors slipped past and continued on down the staircase to the more difficult of their obstacles.

Iris had a bit of a personal score to settle with Peeves, the poltergeist had ruined not only her first night time exploration; though that was more Neville's fault then anything, he had attempted to goo her with ectoplasm. Seeing him there on the staircase pulling up the rug to trip some innocent passersby, she decided that now was as good an opportunity as any.

With a flick of her wrist, Iris' wand slid from its holster and dropped into the palm of her hand where the holly wood warmed and pulsed with life as moved her hand through a cross pattern and whispered, "Bannitome!" under her breath with a French lilt to her voice. The spell was flitted off like an arrow and all Peeves saw was brilliant whit light approaching him.

He shot away from the light as quickly as he could, though to the living watchers it seemed he had fled in terror from something more horrible than the Bloody Baron. It was a tad bit cruel, but Iris wasn't in a particularly genial mood so she didn't feel all that bad about seeing the ghost screaming as he flew down the halls.

With the poltergeist gone it was only a few moments more until the group was at the third floor corridor and they found the locked door, unlocked and ajar; haunting music was slipping out from behind the threshold. "There you have it; he's gotten here before us." Neville muttered as they pushed past the door and into the huge doghouse. Thankfully, whoever was taking care of this over large beast was keeping the place clean; Iris would have hated to lose a good pair of shoes.

Across the room at the dog's feet was a tall organ, it was playing softly but powerfully resonant notes keeping the dog asleep; "Start playing Neville, we don't have know how long that harp will keep up its tune." Iris urged him quietly, even if she didn't know how to get past the dog it wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist to put together harp with music and Longbottom bringing a flute with him.

Fluffy seemed to know they were there, even in sleep he sniffed at the air and emitted a low growl that vibrated deep in Iris' chest and rattled her bones beneath her flesh. Neville began to play a few hesitant notes at first before he blew a bit more confidently as the Cerberus' breathing evened out once more and it snuffled lightly even as the harp died out.

His playing wasn't particularly good, well honestly it was downright horrible; he had no melody and the music was all sharp as he blew into the whittled instrument, but his more important audience didn't seem to mind. Iris took a moment to appreciate the change in events, it seemed Grindelwald had a bit of flair to him use an organ as a distraction; still she couldn't fault his taste.

With a rueful chuckle, she crossed the room and gripped the heavy iron ring of the trap door and heaved the heavy wooden door open to the pitch black darkness below. Ron and Hermione framed two sides of the chasm and peered down into the shadows below; Iris herself had learned that it was a bit more important to look before you leaped.

"Lumos" The end of her wand flared to life as it emitted a powerful beam of light into the darkness below; slicing through like steel and revealing what lay beneath. Far below them was a writhing mass of pale tendrils tinged with green, there was a faint sweet smell coming from the fungus and Iris shuddered as she identified the stench.

One had to wonder what the Devil's Snare did for energy, it grew only in the damp and dark; more fungus than plant to be sure and like the most famous fungus, this was a decomposer. Like mushrooms, Devil's Snare was a species that absorbed phosphorus and nitrogen from the creatures that it strangled and crushed, in a normal habitat most of those creatures would be cave dwellers; insects, bats, small mammals.

Here, to guard the Stone; Sprout and Hagrid had carefully coordinated this to be sure, the fungi had been feasting on the waste of the creature above it, the scraps of whatever meals that Fluffy got, and from the looks of the rotting lamb leg in the corner; it had some fresh prey just for itself. That sweet stench that emanated from below them, was the smell of decomposition and death; and from the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, they had come to the same conclusion.

"Devil's Snare, doesn't like light or heat," Hermione said to fill the silence of the morbid discovery; and good as her word the plant was shying from the beam of light from Iris wand as well as the square of light that fell from the open trapdoor. "We just need to drop down onto it and I'll clear us a path." Hermione declared with a surety to her voice that reassured Ron, Neville was too busy playing for the dog to look down the hole to see what they were seeing.

"I'll drop in first, remember to roll as soon as you land; if we don't we'll crush each other and we won't be good for anything if we've gotten broken fingers or cracked skulls." Iris said as she crouched down and lowered herself into the empty air below her until she was holding onto the edge by her fingertips. Looking up at Hermione, Iris gave the girl a wink and an impish smile to convey her absolute trust in the girl coming to her rescue before she let go with a whoop of joy.

"She bloody crazy, I don't care how flaming brave you are; you don't go into something like that with a smile!" Ron muttered incredulously and looked at Hermione, but the girl just gave him a mysterious smile and a shrug, "They say that madness and genius go hand in hand; if that's the case then I'd wager that she is the smartest of us all."

Ron had no response for that and with a shake of his head and a heavy swallow, he too cast himself into the darkness and fell for what seemed like an eternity before he hit the carpet of pliable vines and remembered to roll to the side before rising to his feet and looked into the dimly lit darkness for Iris.

In such prevalent darkness, the only way to discern one thing from another was to see the slightly darker shadow amidst that rest of the darkness; but Ron didn't know that, instead he saw the glittering of light on emerald eyes. He opened his eyes wide to let in more light in the hopes that he would see better but the silky laugh the cut through the air stopped him.

"Opening your eyes here won't help you Ron, close them tight and count to ten; you have to adjust to darkness. You could always use a Lumos though, but then you'd be blind to the dangers that lurk in the dark, it's called being night blinded." Iris' voice told him, teaching him like it was just another lesson in the Common Room, utterly calm with the situation.

Fear jumps from one to another and becomes panic; calmness doesn't leap so from person to person, it had to be spread deliberately or enforced by authority to create order.

A shadow filled up the square of light for a few moments before the pudgy form of Neville crashed softly, he seemed dazed and lost for a moment before Ron urged him to roll out of the way and once he was clear another shadow filled up the square of light. High above them, they could the scratching of claws on stone and the sound of Fluffy surging to his feet.

By the time Hermione had landed, the square of light had vanished as the Cerberus above them blotted the hole with his presence and barked ferociously at them but was unable to reach them or do them any harm.

The brunette didn't bother to roll since she was the last one down, instead she pulled her wand from the holster at her wrist; "Hyacinthoflammis" a gout of blue flames erupted from the end of Hermione's wand and landed amidst the tendrils of the fungus, casting a cerulean light across that made the shadows dance in the chamber and the plant to shudder and cringe.

For a moment, you could see the skeleton pale tendril having worked their ways up to Neville's calves and to Ron's knees, but strangely they plant had only wrapped about Iris' feet and ankles though she had been down there the longest.

Only for a moment though, as the plant dropped its prey unceremoniously; undulating to form gaps in the weave so that the schoolchildren could fall through to the stone floor half a dozen feet below. Ron and Neville landed heavily, the impact jarring their ankles and their teeth clacked shut sharply though thankfully neither bit through their tongues. Hermione landed a bit better, she at least had the fortune to landed on her toes and partially bent knees so that she wound up in a tumble that left her flat on her back and nursing an injured scalp.

Iris had the pleasure of forewarning, though she couldn't have shared that information with her friends; she landed on the balls of her feet and sprung forward in a long arc and tumble as she dissipated the impact velocity through forward momentum; here body acting like a spring to release the energy without injuring herself.

While she rose gracefully to her feet, the others struggled to their own with Ron having the most difficult time of them all, his ankle had folded under his landing leaving him with a bad sprain and forcing Neville to take the boy's arm over his shoulder and taking some of his weight as they moved forwards.

The next room was just like Harry had remembered it, a single towering room that stretched far above them and filled with a thousand fluttering keys and a single locked door. "You have to wonder who they thought they were guarding this Stone from. Sure I get Fluffy and the Devil's Snare; they're ferocious and dangerous but really flying keys." Iris muttered to herself as she rolled her eyes, sure it was a difficult task but where was the defense in a hard task?

If Flitwick had Charmed a flying key and then hidden it among a thousand flying _knives, _Iris could understand that; appreciate it even as it would make it nearly impossible to succeed without being cut to ribbons. "Dumbledore should really invest in some better security, maybe I'll hawk him a few ideas when we get through with this and turn some coin from this adventure." she mused aloud to the chuckles of her companions, even Ron was smiling through his pained expression.

Crossing the circular room to pick up one of the brooms, the raven haired girl hefted the stick while Ron examined the door. "You're looking for an old fashioned key, big and probably silver to match the door knob." The redhead postulated as he leaned against a wall and slid down to sit with his back against the cool stone.

Iris gave a cursory look up and let her eyes sift through the thousands of options until she found the key she was looking for; the one with the bent wing and wobbly flight pattern. Pointing it out, she mounted her broom and kicked off without taking her eyes off her target. She rocketed upwards like an arrow off the string, the air whistled in her ears as she ascended in perfect vertical takeoff; she wasn't the boy of eleven that had a couple months of practice under his belt.

She was the girl of eleven years that had eight years of high risk broom flying techniques stored in her mind and all the skill with which to apply them. Needless to say, she had the key in her hand before Hermione had reached the threshold of the flock and Neville could make a fool of himself by slamming into a wall and breaking his wrist…again.

Dismounting by the door, Iris slipped the key into the slot and gave it a firm twist; smiling a bit at the satisfying click of deadbolts retracting before giving the door a push open and sweeping her arm forward grandly, "And who thought we would need a locksmith to get through this obstacle?" She asked smugly as the group stepped into a brilliantly lit room dominated by a massive chessboard with towering chess pieces that stood a least ten feet high and made from solid white or black marble.

Ron whistled appreciatively at the sight, but then who could blame him McGonagall did good work after all. Still, Iris had to wonder what game these protectors were playing at; a chess match was a clever obstacle to be sure but it seemed a paltry defense in her opinion. Harry might have found this frightful or awe inspiring once but to her it just left her perturbed that this was even in the line of defense.

"The door is behind the white chess pieces, so I think we can assume we're going to have to play to get through." Hermione said as she observed the room critically, though Neville muttered something that sounded a bit like, "Obviously…" but the brunette either didn't hear him or paid him no mind at all.

What Iris wouldn't do at that moment to have Blaise by her side for this obstacle, the Italian was nothing if not methodical and he was exceptionally wary when it came to chess; Ron was a good player in his own right but he lacked the patience and tact for the game's more subtler stratagems. His was a more aggressive tactic; he played with a single minded determinism that forced his opponents to yield more by attrition than anything else.

Still, there was a gleam in the redhead's eyes as he looked across the chessboard and hobbled his way over to the towering form of a mounted knight; placing hand on the massive jet hewn piece it came to life under his palm, the armored figure turned his helm to stare down at the boy through an empty visor while his destrier shuddered and seemed to paw at the tiled floor with it massive hooves.

"Do we… er… have to join you to get across?" Ron asked hesitantly of the chess piece, and the four could only nod as the helmeted rider nodded his head in confirmation before turning to look back across the board at his alabaster enemies and fingered the grip of the Morningstar at his hip eagerly.

"Alright then, Neville take the king, Iris the queen, Hermione take the castle… I'll be a knight." Ron called out the roles, and the black pieces shuffled off the board so that the students could take their places on the board.

Iris wondered for a moment if she was making a mistake putting her trust in Ron but things had gone well the first time around in Harry's universe, so that gave her some reassurance as the game began.

The white began as they often do with a pawn, moving it forward two spaces while Ron began to move the black pieces across the board; each black piece moved forward into the field of battle; the pawns were foot soldiers with pikes and spears cutting each other down. The knights crossed the field with mace, or flail, or axe in hand; the bishops bludgeoned their adversaries with cudgels and quarter staves while the castles took to their foes with warhammers.

It was very much like watching a miniaturized war taking place before them but rather than blood and gore, there were sprays of dust and chunks of stone. The brutality was the same though and Iris watched as the game theories worked against each other, until the moment came when they found themselves in very much the same position as Harry had been.

Iris was in position to checkmate the White King but his Queen was protecting him from harm, her scepter had claimed many a piece; the wickedly sharp end of it having been used to lance through those she had eliminated. Still it was Black's move and Ron was scratching his chin, trying to formulate a plan when the light of realization slackened his face.

Iris studied his face impassively as he turned and met her gaze, "Do you see the move Iris? You see what I have to do?" he asked her, his voice strangely detached as he saw her nod her head and he set his face into a grim mask of determination.

"Then you know what to do," he said no more than that but his words while spoken calmly had the ring of command to them and the raven haired girl wondered when this noble child, so willing to sacrifice himself, had become a fickle glory hound. One more question to add to her list, even as his horse danced forward to his new position while Hermione and Neville watched the boy curiously.

They understood quickly enough as the Queen crossed the tiles with heavy footsteps and raised her scepter to strike; the black courser seemed to sense the threat and reared back, lashing out with its stone to hooves to strike the towering figure. The alabaster monarch dodged and drove her weapon fiercely through the horse's belly, shattering stone and flinging Ron from his mount to the floor below where he landed flat on his back and his head cracked against the floor harshly.

Neville made to move towards his fallen friend while Hermione stood aghast but unmoving, but at her command of, "FREEZE!" the chubby boy never made it out of his position. "First, we end the game," she stated as he turned his brown eyes on her with a mixture of anger and startlement.

Iris stepped forward just as she had been bid to do and placed herself before the White King, "Checkmate, Your Grace." She said with a polite smile, as the piece removed his crown and tossed it at her feet, the marble rang against the floor and wobbled in ever shorter rings before it stilled. By the time Iris picked it up and carried it over to Ron's fallen form, Hermione and Neville were both huddled over his limp form.

His chest rose and fell in even breaths but there was a large lump forming on the back of his head though luckily it wasn't bleeding or cracked open. It didn't mean he wasn't seriously injured though, he would need immediate medical attention to make sure his brain wasn't swelling. "Hermione, you're gonna have to head back to the castle; take one of the brooms from the other room and head straight for Professor Riddle, let him know what's going on here. Do whatever he needs you to do!"

The brunette girl nodded her head and bolted the way they had come taking with her Neville's flute to get past Fluffy.

Neville looked at Ron and then the door that stood behind the chessboard and then at Iris, "I can't make you go through that door Neville; but I'll ask you now, did we get Ron hurt for nothing? Did we risk all of this for nothing?" She inquired quietly, her face impartial and expressionless; she would not judge an eleven year old boy for having fear, if he backed out now no one would blame him and the fact that a couple of First Years had even gotten this far would raise eyebrows and draw questions.

But it seemed that the boy was made from sterner stuff, or maybe his ego refused to let him back down from a challenge with a girl watching him, or any number of rationalizations that might be running through his head at the moment.

What mattered to her was that he stood up and made for the door at the back of the room and though he glanced back at Ron, he did not alter his course. Instead he flung the door to the next room wide open and gagged at the noxious smell that slammed into him like a punch to the throat.

Lying supine and still was the form of a humongous troll, larger even then the one Iris had barbecued on Halloween, the air of the room was thick with the odor of spoiling meat and filth; one could almost see the miasma that swirled about. But Iris put aside the foulness of the odor as she saw the biggest discrepancy of this adventure so far.

The troll lay still, very, very still… too still.

It drew no breath, the chest and sides did not heave and there was no angry red bump on the back of its head as there had been for Harry. Instead, they found a pool of blood that spread across the floor and where the massive and powerful creature once probably had an ugly face was not but a gaping hole with jagged and torn edges, flaps of skin hanging down into the open and empty expanse of the creature's skull.

Grindelwald it seemed was either an exceedingly wise or arrogant man to depose of his own creature with such finality; a beast unconscious might stir and waken at the arrival of new smells and sounds, but a dead one made little difference to anyone. So either he was wise enough to devise a solution for the Mirror or he was arrogant enough to believe that he could acquire the Stone quickly enough that he would be done and away with no issue.

They would find out quickly enough and the raven haired girl crossed the room quickly, her robe wadded about her nose and mouth so that she might breath through the fabric but it did little good to mask the overwhelming odor that brought tears to her eyes as she stumbled through to the other side; wrenching open the door and stepping over the threshold with Neville.

Once the flames sprang up at their back, the odor disappeared as the air was consumed and Iris breathed deeply of the clean air and blinked by the sting that afflicted her eyes until she was able to see clearly; or at least as clearly as her eyes could manage and letting the glass lenses do the rest of the sharpening.

Before them was an empty chamber of stone, at their back was a wall of purple flame and at their front was a wall of black flames; to the left was a bench and to the right was a table of potions upon which lay a familiar scroll.

The potions were arranged from right to left on varying levels of height and of mismatched size and shapes. But Iris had eyes only for the one, the smallest of all the vials and the only one that was partially filled, only a swallow remaining to it and thus the solution to the equation without bothering to read the scroll, though she did give it a close read to ensure the puzzle was the same. It would exceptionally foolish to take another's answer to a problem only to discover that it was poison or wine and be burnt to ashes in the cursed flames ahead.

But the riddle was the same as were the solutions and so she had completed her task; seen Neville safely through the labyrinth to face the beast, but he wouldn't be facing any minotaur but he did have the strongest shield for the job.

Plucking black draught from the table, Iris placed it in the boy's hand; "This is the key to the next chamber but there's only enough left for one person. You took Grindelwald down once Neville, you can do it again!" She said encouragingly but the pudgy hero was quivering with fright, the image of the dead troll fresh in his mind and nightmares from the forest playing again in his mind's eye.

"A-alright, which is the potion to go back?" He asked hesitantly while he rolled the half empty vial in his hand, the raven haired girl looked at the boy skeptically but Harry had asked the same thing. Plucking the rounded vial from the end which was filled with a swirling violet potion, she cradled it in her hand.

"Don't worry Neville; I'll double back as soon as you're through to take care of Ron. Hermione should be getting past the Devil's Snare by now so help will be here soon." She reassured the boy but it seemed to be to no avail he was covered with a sheen of sweat and had a sickly pallor to his face.

She was completely taken off guard when he shoved her roughly back into the potion table and snatched the second potion from her hand, her shocked exclamation falling on deaf ears as he threw the black vial up into the air overhead. Pushing off the table, she dove for the vial as it arced back towards the ground and caught in her outstretched hand though her chin split against the stone floor.

Neville stood beside the purple flames, with the second potion bottle hanging limply from his hand bereft of even a single drop left; "You said you wouldn't force me through, but I can't fight something that could melt a troll's face off or kill a unicorn. I'm sorry Iris, but I can't do that; I'm not strong enough; I'll take of Ron and when Hermione get's help I'll make sure Snape is punished for going after the Stone! Just wait here for help!"

The boy looked sincerely apologetic but he darted through the flames too quickly for her taste and she could only stare at the spot he had been while her emotions roiled tempestuously within her; rage and loathing and hatred and betrayal but mostly she felt disgust.

Disgust in Neville to be sure, for all his pomp and swagger when the push came he shoved her so that he could get away but more sharply was the disgust she felt in herself, she had let herself believe his swill and bravado for the sake of another Neville, that nobility and courage might shine through. She had been outmaneuvered by an eleven year old because of her delusion that he would rise to the challenge, instead he had fallen to his comfort zone.

With a growl of frustration she pushed herself up onto her feet and gingerly touched the split in her chin, feeling the warm stickiness that was her blood flowing down her throat and dribbling onto her shirt and the floor.

Looking down at the vial in her hands and then at the tunnel of black flames that flickered just a few feet away she decided her course, while she was confident that Grindelwald wouldn't be able to draw the Stone from the Mirror she had to make absolutely certain.

The risk otherwise was too great to ignore, things under his initial terror spree had sparked a World War; his second had left many wizards dead; a third could not be allowed to happen.

Squaring her shoulders, Iris drank down the black potion and felt a rush of ice shoot through her veins and chill her to her very core. Even the blood at her chin seemed to thicken and stop its flow, and her breath came out steamy in the warm room with its merrily blazing flames.

Stepping forward she moved through flames the color of ink, the conflagration licked at her clothing and flesh but did not burn either as her vision was obscured by dark fire before she emerged into the final chamber.

A stone hall deep in the heart of the castle, barren of tapestries or decoration save for a series of arches and columns that ran down the length of the room while the center aisle was depressed several feet with chiseled steps that led up to the door she had come in through. At the far end of the hall was the sole purpose of the room, the Mirror of Erised; all eight feet of silvered glass and silver framework.

And peering into it was a man with a purple turban on his head, staring at something that he desperately wanted to have and use, such that it was eternally barred from his grasp; until it would be enough for him just to hold the Stone and then the Mirror would surrender its cargo.

"Hello Professor Quirrell." Iris greeted cordially as she stepped down the stairs, abandoning stealth as her voice and footsteps echoing about the stone hall; a secret smile playing on her lips since she knew what the key to getting the Stone was and he didn't.

"Ah, hello Miss Potter, how very nice of you to join me. I was wondering when I was going to have company, though I admit yours is not the company I was expecting." Quirrell said as he smiled back at the girl, his expression chilly and sharp.

"Well, as long as we're being honest I wasn't expecting to be here either but I do hope that I'm pleasant company." She replied smoothly as she looked at the pale and gaunt face of Quirrell, he was frightfully pale and there was a layer or sweat on his brow with lines of pain at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"Honesty doesn't suit me so well but it is very becoming of a young lady." Quirrell replied with a smirk as he snapped his fingers and conjured ropes to bind and hold the witch in place as they tightened around her though she didn't struggle against the bonds. 'Curious' he thought to himself as he eyed her warily but he had other matters to deal with.

Turning his attention to the mirror, he inspected it from top to bottom; noting the inscription in the frame before walking around it and examining it from the rear as well. "Trust Dumbledore to put something like this in my way, too clever by half that man is but I'll be far along by the time he gets back from London." Quirrell remarked as he completed his circuit and peered into his reflection.

"I can see myself presenting the Stone to my master but how to get it… hmm?" he questioned aloud as Iris watched patiently from her position of incarceration, the chill in her blood fading away little by little and she could feel the heat of the blood dripping down again.

"Is it in the mirror? Should I break it?" Quirrell wondered to himself as he stared into the glass but he seemed to spot Iris' reflection there as well as his eyes fixed on her and he cocked his ear to listen to a voice that only he could hear. Beckoning with his hand, Iris could feel herself rise until just the tips of her shoes were touching the ground as she was levitated across the stone to stand beside the mirror and the Muggle Studies Professor.

He cupped her chin gently and raised her head up so that he could inspect the gash while he tsked and shook his head, "No this will never do, you were not to be harmed." He muttered as he drew his wand and pressed the tip of the wood against the side of the wound and she began to feel an itchy sensation as the skin knitted itself back together until there was only a thin white that was barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.

"I'm grateful for the healing but didn't you try to kill me at the Quidditch game? Oh, and let's not forget the troll that got in here that nearly killed me." Iris stated as she looked into the glass and inspected the sealed cut, it was done nicely but her shirt was stained something awful.

"Indeed, but that was before certain information came to light; you are quite the talented little witch Miss Potter. A shame then to eliminate someone with so much potential, I suspect that once you have all the facts you'll make a proper decision and I'm confident that you'll pick the right side." Quirrell replied with a knowing smile, he could see the curiosity in her eyes and from what he had heard about this student she took to learning like fish to water.

"Did you know that in other countries that Dark magic is not frowned upon but actually taught to students? Durmstrang teaches their students all of it, and Beuxbatons gives their students choices in that regard as well. Even the American Academies for Magic give their students free choice in learning whatever they wish to." Quirrell said as he turned his attention back to the mirror and continued to talk though there was an odd treble to his voice now.

"Only the British Ministry is so bigoted that they actively prosecute those who practice Dark magic, most see what happens on these islands as an atrocity of civil rights. Lord Grindelwald may have committed some atrocities but it cannot be said that nothing good came of it; most of the world has come to accept that the Dark Arts are just another branch of magic and it is the person who uses it that determines the morality and ethical use of it." Quirrell back away from the mirror and turned his attention back onto the girl.

"Look at werewolves even, most of them were bitten against their will but because of their curse they are ostracized from the community at large and denied any kind of respectable occupation unless they keep their condition a secret, furthermore they are denied any kind of help from the government. After Lord Grindelwald, all European countries provide medical treatment for werewolves; they are given Wolfsbane potion every month and they are allowed all the rights and privileges of any other citizen, though they are required to submit to have warded rooms in their homes for nights of the full moon." The man continued with his argument and fixed the raven haired girl with a piercing gaze as she digested all of the information.

"But what about Muggles and Muggleborn? How can you justify the enslavement of those people and the rights of others?" She refuted heatedly, the man had a convincing argument she would admit that but she was a long way from sold.

"Muggles and their offspring pollute the magical community with new beliefs and ideas; it is destructive to our way of life! How many follow the old ways here at Hogwarts! A quarter of the school, maybe a third if we're lucky! They must be subjugated so that we might continue, so that our ways might continue!" He spat back with just as much heat to his voice but he scowled when the girl shook her head in refusal.

"I have seen Muggleborns accept the old ways, my mother for one and Hermione for a second! They're some of the brightest witches this school has ever seen; there must be other ways then massacre and enslavement! I refuse to believe that wanton destruction is the only answer! Nor that it is the right answer!" Iris declared practically shouting at the possessed man with all the vindication she possessed.

He was taken aback by her passionate zeal but he smirked to himself as he felt Grindelwald's dark chuckle and the pressure in the back of his head as he pulled away the turban from his head and the Dark Lord pushed forward, turning himself around the shade of the Dark Lord was there for Iris to see.

A face stared back at her from what should have been the back of the man's head but it was unlike the face of Voldemort. This face was gorgeous, almost inhumanly attractive; deep ultramarine eyes stared at her above features that seemed carved from some marble statue of Adonis. But the skin was chalky white, and hairless; she could only imagine that with a body that this man would make men and women tremble desire or jealousy.

"Come child, stare into the mirror and tell me what it is you see." Grindelwald said in his soft, quiet whisper of a voice and just like that the ropes that bound her disappeared. Iris considered briefly shoving past the man but thought against it; there was opportunity here. She stepped forward and turned to the mirror, staring back at her was her child reflection and the back of Quirrell with the Dark Lord's face.

The image changed until she once more saw the massive hall from before but this time it was filled to full with people of varying dress and garb from all over the world, her friends were still in their same places as were her family. But she was sitting on a raised dais now in a massive throne, still gowned in the midnight dress that shimmered with a thousand dark hues of color, on her side from an equally massive throne sat Riddle but he wore an open and expressive smile on his face.

Kneeling before her were the forms of Dumbledore, Grindelwald and Voldemort but slowly the older Dark Lord began to rise from his kneeling position and he crossed to stand behind her throne and whisper into her ear. The aged form of herself began to change, her skin paled to a creamy alabaster and her beautiful hall darkened as the room was filled with werewolves, vampires, giants, and centaurs; every race represented and paying her homage.

"I see a time when everyone stands equal to one another and peace reigns." Iris said in a hoarse whisper and Grindelwald began to chuckle, "I see much the same child, with you and Voldemort seated beside me. The world that we envision is not so different child, help me to get the Stone and I will bring peace and justice to this corrupt place."

"But who's peace and who's justice?" Iris asked quietly as the regal reflection of herself rose from her seat and extended a closed fist with the palm up towards the young girl, her fingers opened and revealed the rosy crystal that was the Philosopher's Stone before she let it fall to the floor while Iris tore her gaze away from the mirror and fixed the shade of the Dark Lord with an imperial gaze as a sudden weight fell into the interior pocket of her robes.

The shade balked at the question but before he could make a retort there was a commotion at the throat of the chamber and both of their attention was drawn to the chamber's entrance as Professor Dumbledore appeared alongside Professor Riddle. But what they saw was Iris pressed back against the Mirror and Quirrell between her and the door with his wand out. Neville burst past the instructors and fell to his knees, "I'm here Iris! I'm come to rescue you!"

Fury filled her at his triumphant call, as though he was the hero of the hour and no doubt he had told an interesting tale to make himself appear such before the professors but when Quirrell snarled and stepped towards the boy she found herself unable to reprimand him, instead she threw back her elbow and smashed the mirror behind her.

Snapping a piece of broken glass from the panel she didn't even flinch as the edges bit sharply into her hand and opened her hand to the bone. What she knew was that Neville was in danger and everything in her body told her that she needed to keep him safe by any means. What Grindelwald saw was the sudden dimming of emerald eyes as the glazed over and an eleven year leaping onto Quirrell's back.

Wrapping her small hand around his mouth, right under his nose she jerked the professor's head back and sliced his throat open from artery to artery in a gaping red smile with the piece of silvered glass. The man gave a cry of outrage and shock but what came out instead was a wet gurgle as blood bubbled forth from the wound even as he put his hands up to staunch the flow.

Grindelwald lost his hold as the man's lifeblood pumped out of him with ever weakening heartbeats and as he detached he was once more nothing but a shadow clinging to life. This girl shared his vision, she would be open to his possession and so he threw himself at her swimming into her body like a cloud of smoke through nostrils and mouth but it was like trying to carve through a mountain with your fingers.

Her will was too strong to harbor his as well but he felt the compulsion in her blood, stronger than anything he had ever felt before; she was enthralled, completely and utterly bewitched. This was a magic that few could perform, in all of England there were only three who even knew how and of the three only one who he had seen take her blood.

As Grindelwald swirled out of the room, an intangible black cloud that swept over and passed the professors, Iris sank to her knees with the jagged mirror piece in her hand as she stared at the steadily growing pool of blood that was flowing from Quirrell's slashed throat. The pounding urgency in her head had left, nothing was threatening Neville at the moment but as her gaze turned to him still blank and empty she could see that he was horrified by what she had done.

Even as she slumped over and darkness claimed her, those horrified eyes haunted her dreams, not because they hurt her but because of what else she had seen in those coffee brown eyes of Neville's. She had seen fascination in those eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**June 15, 1992**

The first thing that Iris noticed when she regained consciousness was the too clean smell of antiseptics that always accompanied a visit to the hospital but these crisp linen sheets under her hands were becoming all too familiar. As she opened her eyes blearily, she saw the gold framed spectacles and the twinkling blue eyes behind them that could only belong to the Headmaster.

Closing her eyes quickly, she stifled a groan and instead raised a hand to her head as she felt a pounding deep in her head as though something had slammed her head repeatedly into a wall.

"Good afternoon, Iris," Dumbledore said warmly with his usual grandfatherly voice, his voice was going for soothing and comforting but she was in rather too foul a mood to agree with his sentiments. "I'm really not the best judge at the moment Headmaster, how long have I been out?" She quipped back haughtily though the effect was lost to her pained expression.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly at her antics lightly, "Three days I'm afraid, you've had your friends quite worried over you. It would seem that you've likewise gathered quite a number of admirers, they have left you some tokens to get well soon."

Turning her head to the side, she cracked open her eye to see a small mountain of sweets and gifts piled on the table beside the bed she was laying in. If Harry had gotten half the sweet shop, she had gotten the whole store; she wasn't quite sure how she gotten that distinction but she wasn't going to complain.

"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is of course a complete secret…" Dumbledore began though Iris finished for him, "…so naturally, the whole school knows, right?"

He chuckled good naturedly once more, "Quite so Iris, quite so. Though, certain details have been skewed no doubt by the telling of the tale."

"I suppose they might have at that, I honestly can't recall what happened after you and Professor Riddle got through." Iris said as she gritted her teeth and pushed herself up so that her back was against the headboard. Making sure her mental barriers were up, she risked a glance at the Headmaster to see the man staring at her with a look of concern as he weighed some sort of decision.

"Not surprising considering that once Quirrell was discovered Grindelwald attempted to possess you, though you seemed to have fought him off. But such intimate attacks on the body and mind are often so traumatic that we bury them in our subconscious, but I am quite certain that you are the sort to fight through it." Dumbledore finally decided on his answer but Iris could tell that he was hiding something, though she was too tired and her head ached too much to press for an answer.

"In that case, it's only a matter of time before Grindelwald tries to come back then; in some form or another. Though it seems he desperately wanted the Stone, where is the Stone by the way?" Iris asked, she already knew the answer to the question but she had to keep up appearances after all.

"Yes dear girl, Grindelwald will no doubt create another scheme with which to return but as for the Stone it is being destroyed as we speak." Dumbledore replied solemnly as he stared at the waifish girl sitting up in the infirmary bed.

"So Nicolas Flamel and his wife will die then?" She asked quietly, remorsefully, she knew they were being sentenced to die and while she had never met them in person and this was the second time it almost felt like she was their executioner.

"Indeed, they have enough Elixir remaining to them to see their affairs in order but eventually they will pass on. The Stone it seems is not so great a thing, immortality and infinite money; you lose perspective on the things that matter. It is our mortality that gives man its dogged persistence to accomplish and shape our destinies, with immortality we have all the time in the world to accomplish our goals but what good is a goal that need not be pursued?"

Dumbledore put forth rhetorically and Iris had to concede the point there, but somehow immortality with the one you loved beside you didn't seem like such a bad thing. But she hadn't spent six hundred years with the same spouse; perchance Nicolas had a different perspective on events.

"I have two more questions Professor but I want the truthful answer," Iris said from her spot in the bed after the silence between them had stretched on uncomfortably long.

"The truth, a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with caution. Very well Iris, however if I do not answer I trust you will forgive me as it will be for a very good reason." Dumbledore replied with a sigh but resolved himself to hear the questions.

"Understood Professor, first I would like to know how I got the Stone out of the Mirror?"

"Ah, an interesting question and one of my better ideas if I do say so myself; you see Iris only someone who wanted the stone but did not seek to use it could pull it forth from the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore said with genial smile but Iris wasn't satisfied with that response, not after what Quirrell had said.

"Quirrell stated that he saw himself giving the Stone to his master, he had no personal interest in using the stone for himself and he wanted it. Yet he could not draw it from the Mirror, I did though." She responded as she tucked an ebony lock behind her ear and reached out for a piece of chocolate fudge that had been laid on the table beside her.

"Curious that, I'm not sure how to answer your question my dear; I would postulate that the Mirror may have judged the worth of the person to receive the Stone. Magical artifacts can be quite fickle with who they serve." Dumbledore suggested after a moment's thought as he looked at the girl lying in the infirmary bed.

She was sharp as a tack and thrice more likely to be jab him in the arse when he wasn't looking, of course Quirrell couldn't pull the Stone from the Mirror! He was not some fool to not see the signs of possession in one of his own teachers, he had taken steps to ensure that only those he approved of would be able to key the Mirror and receive it.

Her second question was just as pointed, "Professor, who designed the challenges so that a group of First Years could penetrate the defenses? The third floor door was unlocked by a simple charm; Fluffy and the Devil's Snare were prudent decisions but the keys, the chess match, the potion riddle. All of those were penetrated with hardly any difficulty at all, though Ron did take a rather nasty fall for it."

This girl was entirely too observant for his taste, tapping the ruby ring on his finger he contemplated snapping the whip but decided against it; he was better than that and he wasn't a cruel enough man to punish a child for being intelligent.

"You have me at a disadvantage child, the professors and I believed that we need only bar the door against accidental entry; we were quite sure that anyone that was deliberate enough to go through with a theft would surely be done in by the Cerberus that awaited them, if not the Devil's Snare beneath. Each task was designed to be deadly to the unprepared but it seems that your group was just the right balance of ability and adaptability to penetrate what we believed impregnable."

In this case he wasn't even manipulating the facts, the group of First Years had actually penetrated the defenses on their own; that wasn't to say he couldn't have put in some rather extravagant defenses that would have been the death to anyone but he had wanted Neville to at least have a chance to take on Grindelwald but it seemed that his enthrallment had proven to be the undoing of that plan.

Once Neville had been threatened by Grindelwald, the thrall had compelled Iris to do everything in her power to prevent Neville from being injured and the Dark Lord would easily have put the boy in the infirmary. He had not predicted that it would compel the girl to use lethal force but he had managed to contain the situation well enough with the girl and Riddle had Obliviated the Boy-Who-Lived quickly so that left only the two men with the ending of the sordid tale.

"Now I believe I've overstayed my welcome if I recognize that glare from Madam Pomfrey, do rest my dear; I'm sure she'll let you see your friends by the end of term feast." Dumbledore said as he rose from his bedside seat, he patted the girl's hand and then strode out with nary a glance behind him for the emerald eyed witch that had long since learned to read the truth by listening to what _wasn't_ said.

* * *

><p>Sitting on the bench of Gryffindor table, Iris was looking around at the bronze and blue decorations that hung around the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws had won the Quidditch Cup while she had been laid up in the Infirmary, and the win had given them the lead over Gryffindor by one hundred points. So rightly, there was a banner behind the table of an eagle flying through the air, screaming its triumph and elation. It was the first time in six years that the Slytherins had actually lost the House Cup and she was sure that rankled her friends in the serpent house.<p>

She had sat with her friends earlier in the infirmary to go over the story as far as she could tell and they had proven to be an excellent audience; gasping in all the right places, looking shocked, Hermione had even screamed when she described how Grindelwald came out of the back of Quirrell's head. When they heard about Neville's cowardice Blaise and Draco had been ready to find the boy as string him up by his ankles, especially since he was telling anyone who would listen that he had been the hero of the hour.

But of course she didn't tell them everything, what she had seen in the Mirror for one and the conversation she had with the Dark Lord. She wasn't sure how she felt about that particular in truth, she was too smart to believe that utopia was possible but the dream of peace and equality for all had birthed nations and ended them. There was a noble sentiment to her vision that was worth pursuing, but she predicted a bloody price and she didn't know if she could pay it.

She was Hecate's Champion after all, she had sworn an oath to serve the goddess and be her vessel among man; but she had yet to learn the endgame. So much of the future was uncertain and yet her piece was already on the board and she could feel the players moving into position to shuffle her across the field. She was determined to be a player though so she would bide her time and when the moment came she would upset the table and change the game.

But for now, she would play her role and for the moment that was an exceptional student and star Quidditch player. She was content with that for the moment.

The buzz of the Great Hall died away as Dumbledore rose from his seat at the High Table and looked around the room, but Iris didn't pay the man any mind; her eyes were set on the Deputy Headmaster. Professor Riddle sat his chair like a throne as he stared over everyone with an imperious air but he paused to meet Iris' gaze.

His obsidian eyes were hard as flint and twice as cold, the man seemed especially frosty this evening though no one seemed to notice. Something had upset the Defense instructor but he was not the sort of person one could comfort easily, while she could not boast to know the man well, she had learned over the year how to read him better than anyone.

It was still impossible to tell what he was thinking but slowly she had learned to decipher his emotions, a bit at a time and what she saw in those eyes of jet froze her where she sat. He had always looked at her before with a touch of approval, a hint of pride, and something bordering concern or simple awareness but now… now there was wariness to his vision and a look as though he were sizing her up.

She didn't know what he was scaling her against and it gave her the feeling that there was some sort of test going on that she had neither the questions nor the answers; but she returned the judging with a stare of her own that roared back in challenge, daring him to measure her because there wasn't a scale that could balance her. And it seemed that he found the answer to his question because he gave her a nod of acknowledgement and the faintest of smiles before his face was once more the aloof mask that she despised so much.

She hardly paid any mind as the rest of her House began to cheer as Dumbledore began to award them points for the actions they had performed after breaking into the third floor corridor against the rules and doing something exceptionally foolhardy that might or might not have kept a whole lot of people safe. At least up until the point when he mentioned her name.

"To Miss Iris Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points." The din from the table was deafening as those who could do the math were muttering that they had just tied Ravenclaw for the house cup.

"Lastly, there are many forms of courage; but courage cannot exist in the absence of fear. What makes a person courageous is acting in the face of fear; and for that I award Neville Longbottom ten points." The roar that sounded from the Great Hall might have been thought of as an explosion as the table celebrated and the other Houses clapped politely, though the Ravenclaws were understandably upset by losing the House Cup as the banners and streamers changed to scarlet and gold and the eagle banner changed into a roaring lion.

But the celebrations only lasted for an evening, and come morning wardrobes were emptied and trunks packed; notes were handed out to remind students not to perform magic over the holidays and Iris and her friends were already making plans to visit one another over the summer.

The First Years were escorted from the Entrance Halls down through the dungeons to the stone jetty where the boats were to take them back across the lake towards the train. The students were put into boats with their trunks safely in the middle, and they glided across the glassy still water.

Iris was in the very last boat to depart, her friends with her but companionably silent as she stared up at the stone castle as they floated away. Ancient and powerful, Hogwarts was still a sight to behold as carved rock jutted into the sky with pointed spires and walled crenulations that seemed jagged against the clear blue sky above. It would have been a fearsome sight to any attacker, but for Iris it was shelter and it was safety.

She was sailing towards home now, but she was also sailing away from it too.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Okay, book one done! Well, I'm pretty proud of myself at the moment since I got this done in just about a month; the books get longer from here on out and I'm going to be doing a full rewrite so you can expect continued updates for this story.

Please keep those reviews coming, I love getting those emails and reading what you guys have to say! Again, if you have questions, I'm glad to answer back so long as they don't require me spoiling my future works for you.

**Next Chapter: **_Interlude_


	10. Interlude I

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: And so in just over a month Book One was completed for your reading, I hope you all liked it; I know I had a heck of a time writing it all and the reviews that I got for it were inspiring and motivating. So to those of you who are staying for the ride, let's start this thing off.

**Behind the Veil**

By StycianLeo

**Interlude I**

**Riddle House, Little Hangelton, England, UK**

**June 20, 1992**

Questions filled Tom Riddle's mind as he paced to and fro across the polished hardwood floors of his library. He was surrounded by shelf upon shelf of books, from floor to ceiling and lining each wall; in every language that he could read. Hebrew, Arabic, Mandarin, French, German, Russian, Spanish, Ltin, Greek, Sanskrit, Pashtu, Urdu, Japanese… the list went on, the Dark Lord prided himself on being an educated man after all.

He had toured the world, sampled magic new and old from every country he could get into; Light, Grey, Dark, it didn't matter to him. He was the most powerful wizard the world had ever seen and not just because he was strong magically, but because he held knowledge and information beyond anything anyone else had ever conceived.

He had learned and forgotten more magic in his lifetime than most people would ever study and yet for all his learning he was still plagued by tedious questions like the meaning of sacrifice.

The question itself had come about at the end of term feast not yet a week past as he contemplated the loss of Quirrell. The man himself had not been entirely necessary for anything but he had his uses, given the fact that he had harbored Grindelwald and served faithfully after his indoctrination; but they had known his use was coming to a close.

That was the case for any servant used as a vessel; it strained the body and the core of the host to support two distinctly different consciousnesses. If the host and rider did not merge symbiotically, it would lead to the eventual death of both as the body failed to adequately hold the two souls. Initially, it started with an increase in metabolism, the stronger the wizard the quicker the body burned; which was why Hogwarts served such large meals, the students needed to not only support their bodies but their magical cores as well.

But after a while, the body itself began to shut down until the only thing that could sustain it was unicorn blood but even that came at a price. The consumption of the blood came with a curse that essentially left the body more dead than alive; you survived because the blood eliminated the needs of the body.

You never needed to eat but you would always hunger, food turned to ash in your mouth; no need to sleep, but you were always tired and when you shut your eyes you would always feel the last moments of the unicorn. Feel its terror and the cool touch of death as the life slowly left the body.

It was no true way to live but that was what it took and Grindelwald would never have settled for anything less than the complete control of his own body. As such, Quirrell was doomed to die or live the most austere life possible.

His thoughts were interrupted by the disturbance in his ward, spread across the entirety of his property he knew when and who crossed onto the land of his father's mansion. As it was, he knew this particular visitor well; even if he didn't look the same man.

Footsteps sounded behind the heavy doors of the library and Riddle turned to face them as the oak portal was pushed open, revealing a tall and darkly handsome man with vibrant ultramarine eyes. "Ah, welcome Gellert; I see you've acquired a new suit." The Defense instructor greeted the man coolly as he eyed the newly possessed wizard.

"Yes, quite; it still chaffs a bit but it'll do nicely for the moment." Came the reply, suave and sophisticated though quiet and harmonic. "It seems that I underestimated Dumbledore this time, he was holding an ace when I thought all he had was a joker."

"Indeed, the old man is keeping what happened that night a rather closely guarded secret; I'm afraid no one save myself and he know how you were vanquished that night. Even then, I had not expected the girl to act the way she did; slitting Quirrell's throat was not a move I would have believed to be in her character." Riddle responded tersely as he gestured the other man to a seat in the library's lounge, while he settled into an armchair.

"It isn't but Dumbledore ensured that she did it anyway. He has her under an enthrallment; subtle enough that even she does not notice it but powerful enough to bring her to heel whenever he desires it. He's using a Ring of Obedience wrought with her blood, it's a thing I did not think him capable of but when it comes to opposing me it would seem the ends justify the means." Grindelwald said as he lowered himself into a chair across from his host and watched his ally closely.

The warmth of the room retreated so quickly a layer of hoarfrost was left coating the stacks of book and the ceiling as well. Riddle was staring at his guest through sleepy, half lidded eyes and his voice was and calm though Grindelwald knew he was staring at the younger man at his most dangerous.

When Voldemort sunk into the depths of his cold rage, it was unlike anything he had ever seen in anyone else. Anger generally made people messy, they reacted emotionally and not logically but not him, he wasn't clouded by the emotion but sharpened. The man's mind was already razor sharp, but now any misstep could leave you short a limb and never even feel it.

"Jilted lovers tend to have long memories." Riddle quipped and watched as Gellert scowled disgustedly, "Only a fool devotes himself to another on the principle of love, or honor, or loyalty! I have no need for such weaknesses and I will not apologize for taking advantage of those weaknesses in others!" he spat sharply and Riddle smirked lazily, Grindelwald felt his mouth go dry suddenly at the expression on the others face.

Voldemort was dangerous, more so in this state than in any other; he would have to monitor himself closely to prevent further slipups.

"Back to the matter at hand, he has taken to wearing a ring about his finger; gold with the darkest ruby I had ever seen and the whole thing covered with more runes than I could decipher. If it is a Ring, he is determined to have her at his side, especially now that he has confirmed his suspicions that you are not only alive but actively trying to regain form." Riddle stated as he steepled his fingers under his chin and looked at Grindelwald's new form as his chilly wraith burned through his body.

"He's looking for the most potent weapon to use against me but a weapon that has a will of its own is a dangerous one, especially when it is beholden to a different master. She is ours! She looked into the mirror and shared my vision; she still sees Muggles and Muggleborns but it'll only be a matter of time before she sees that exceptions like her mother and her friend are not the rule!" Grindelwald smiled at his own words, picturing the world he had envisioned for so many years; the one he had dreamt up with Dumbledore at his side and the Deathly Hollows at its heart.

"That may be but first we have to face the fact that no matter where her loyalties lie, she will be wielded against us so long as Dumbledore holds her leash. The defenses around the Stone might have been paltry to give the Longbottom child a chance to temper himself against you but a Ring of Obedience is another magic altogether!" Riddle hissed sharply, bringing Gellert back to the reality of the situation and felt himself rising to the killing edge.

"Quite right, a Ring is a difficult thing to interfere with; it bonds the wearer and the subject together compelling the subject to do the wearer's bidding. If the order is refused or fought, it is said to create a pain sharper than one hundred Cruciatus Curses and the subject must never attempt to attack or strike the wearer, any such action will result in debilitating cramps." Grindelwald began, his voice coming out clearly and concisely; as it always did when he taught a lesson.

But it was a lesson Riddle had already learned and had no desire to hear again, especially with his ire up and the desire to descend upon Dumbledore with all his fury roiling within him. "I remember the histories too; the liege lords of the realm created them to hold their retainers and banner men loyal to their house. It is what birthed the Ancient and Most Noble Houses and created the Protocols and Laws. But how do we free her from the Ring's bondage!" He asked softly, quietly and the chill in the room intensified until the frost crept across the wall and the braziers were snuffed out throughout the room.

"That my apprentice is the question, breaking a Ring's hold requires the wearer to be far enough away that the subject can rebel against a command without being incapacitated by pain. But breaking a Ring itself requires a magical attack powerful enough to break the blood magic itself." Grindewald answered slowly as he mulled over the situation and all the lore he recalled on the subject.

"A magical attack specifically or just a powerful magical surge?" Riddle asked as the whisper of the seed of an idea formed in his mind.

"I suppose a magical surge would do if it was powerful enough, why? What do you have in mind?" Grindelwald asked as Riddle began to plan in his mind's eye blueprints were unfurling and moves were being planned and counter planned as he began to formulate the next round of the chess game.

"Simple Gellert, simple; but first I need your pet and then I'll need that gold of yours." Riddle replied with a thin, cruel smile as the windows throughout the room shattered as the cold reached them and emphasized his point as obsidian eyes flared crimson.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>There you have it, the interlude to give you a bit of an idea how and where I'm taking this. This is just a midweek flavoring, the next chapter will be coming on Sunday so hold on and bear with me a little more.

**Next Chapter: **_Summer Break_


	11. Chapter IX

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: And so in just over a month Book One was completed for your reading, I hope you all liked it; I know I had a heck of a time writing it all and the reviews that I got for it were inspiring and motivating. So to those of you who are staying for the ride, let's start this thing off.

* * *

><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter IX**

**Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England, UK**

**July 31, 1992**

Summer was a welcome reprieve for Iris Potter, having spent the last ten months away at Hogwarts she had proven to be academically and athletically gifted which had in turn made her top of her class besides Hermione Granger, her best friend as fellow Gryffindor, as well putting her on the quidditch team and making her the youngest player in a century.

To say that she was enjoying her down time was an apt definition if perhaps slightly misconstrued; the raven haired young girl had anything but downtime.

Her days were busy and active but full of laughter and enjoyment; her mother and she were once more rising with the sun to makes delectable feasts for breakfast and then retreating to her workroom in the basement to work together on her projects. Iris didn't have the knowledge of enchanting that her mother had but she her brewing skills were pretty good for her age and her mother had begun tutoring her in runes.

Liatris had concluded her own education and was preparing for Hogwarts herself now so she and her elder sister were often found together. Her birthday had passed in May while Iris was still at school but since her sister had turned eleven and gotten not only Hogwarts acceptance letter but also her wand she had become engrossed in learning some practical magic.

Remus was still moving pursuing his Mastery a bit at a time and wrestling with his condition but he his scarred and somber face was more relaxed than she had ever seen it before. His face had more laugh lines and less pain in his eyes; he attributed it to having his 'pup' back in the 'den' and working that magic she seemed to have.

James Potter was still working the night shift as an Auror Captain, as such he was comatose for most of the day as he slept through the sunlight hours to rise at night and tackle his job; as of late he had been working on a fraud case. St. Mungo's had been receiving batches of bad potions which had exasperated the conditions for several patients and had resulted in the death of at least one patient already.

The girls' father had seen to it that their Traces, the magical observation that the Ministry utilized to watch for Under Age Magic, had been scrubbed from both of his daughters. His job was dangerous and he was good at it so he had picked up more than a few enemies. With his daughters being of an age to learn and use magic and Liatris being eager to start her training, Sirius and he had started working the two of them in dueling and self defense along with Pollux.

Sirius' son had proven to be his father's mirror; with the same thick and lustrous black hair that hung down to his shoulders in easy waves and his striking grey eyes along with the casual elegance that he seemed to display. Likewise he was just as impulsive and reckless as his sire though he had a better temper, he still flared up hotly but he had yet to explode over anything; which was probably the influence of his mother.

Sarah had proven to be the emotional anchor for the Blacks, an American journalist who had met Sirius after he had gone to the States on a joint investigation looking for a serial killer that had been targeting Muggleborn witches. Their relationship seemed straight out of a detective novel, the roguish investigator met the cunning journalist who wanted the inside scoop; but as cliché as it was, it had worked.

Sarah had proven to be the complete opposite of her husband except for her stunning good looks; she was careful and precise, always thinking ahead, methodical. She had a big heart though and was just as playful as any of the Marauders with an easy disposition and a warm smile that made her easy to talk with. It was probably what made her such a good journalist, she had a way about her that drew people in and before you knew it you were spilling your secrets to the woman and her big cornflower blue eyes.

But today was a special day for Iris, it was her twelfth birthday and her parents had promised her a grand day of it. Her friends arrived by midmorning, Hermione first since Lily had personal gone to collect the girl and bring her to the Manor. Then Daphne had arrived through the Floo with far more grace than Iris had ever managed to have when it came to being shot out of a fireplace.

The honey blonde had come out of the hearth and practically floated to her feet with but the lightest brushing of soot from her lilac summer dress. Astoria came out more mundanely, a blur of skidding flesh that Liatris helped up after she had come to a rest.

Draco and Blaise arrived together as Narcissa Malfoy Apparated into a small anteroom of the foyer that required someone in the house to let them inside, a precautionary measure to prevent unwelcome guests from getting into the house. Sirius' family arrived last as was expected since he never managed to arrive on time for anything (he always blamed Sarah but everyone knew it was him that took the most time to get ready).

Finally with everyone in attendance Remus presented a portkey for everyone to take a hold of and with the familiar jerk of a hook behind her navel and a dizzying wash of vertigo the entourage landed on the edge of a clearing with a mash of people, music and the aroma of food washed over the group and they understood suddenly why they had been told to dress for a hot summer day as the heat and humidity smacked them like a sweaty glove as sweat broke out on foreheads.

But what was most clear of all was they weren't anywhere in England or even on the same latitude considering that Iris was staring at a sandy white beach with crystal clear water that was churning white as people swam through the waves or broke the surf with their bodies.

"Where are we?" Iris asked as she looked about in shock and awe at the lively music and partygoers, her emerald eyes flitting about as she took in the revelry and the brightly clad dancers. "We're in Antigua, in the Caribbean for their Carnival. We thought you could do with a real party after what happened at the end of the year." Lily informed her with a smile as she took in her daughter's blatant enthusiasm before she was all but tackled by the raven haired youth.

Needless to say, preteens warm water, good food and thriving music ensured that the day didn't end until long into the night when the children were so exhausted they couldn't move and the adults were flushed with drink, full to bursting, and too danced out to care that their clothes were soiled and sweat stained.

The last thing Iris remembered before happily collapsing into her feather bed with Hermione and Daphne sprawled across the enlarged furniture was how much better this birthday had been than when Harry had pretended not to exist and whether or not Dobby had accosted Neville in this universe as he had her.

* * *

><p><strong>Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley, London, England, UK<strong>

**August 15, 1992**

Iris never found out the answer to her question, Dobby was firmly at Lucius Malfoy's side as his personal valet since Narcissa and Draco likewise had their personal house-elves. What she did discover was that after a record twenty eight weeks on the Daily Prophet's bestseller list, Gilderoy Lockhart managed to secure the Assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts.

It became something of joke among the Potter household considering James and Sirius' positions as Aurors that Lockhart was given the position because his home had been invaded by a number of his more amorous fans looking for a token of his favor. He had asked the DMLE to grant him some kind of protection which they had refused and his publicist had gone so far as to hire bodyguards for him, but after working for the man they had gotten so fed up with him that they quit.

As a last recourse he was offered a position at Hogwarts on the basis that he takes no salary instead he had gotten his complete works onto the school book list which promised to make him a tidy income that probably exceeded any tenure the other professors might receive for their work.

By mid-August, Lily found herself swamped with work having been commissioned by Gringotts Bank to produce fire protecting talismans, the goblins had acquired a fresh young dragon for use in their mint and he had a bit more kick to his breath than they had expected. Their old talismans had failed and gotten a number of goblins flash fried so they had gone to the best enchanter around to get new ones made. Lily had even gotten the contract under goblin terms, should the goblin assigned the talisman decease the talisman would return to Lily and her family with the option to resell it back to Gringotts.

As such, she had asked for Iris' godmother to take her girls to Diagon Alley to go shopping for their school supplies. Narcissa Malfoy was all too happy to take the Potter girls though Liatris was markedly less enthusiastic about the situation. She needed to buy her robes and school uniform and the Lady Malfoy would ensure that she got only the very best which meant that Liatris would not be leaving the woman's side for much of the day.

Iris herself had the pleasure of her cousin's company in Draco, the platinum blond boy had burned terribly during the carnival; his fair and unprotected skin having turned an angry shade of red but after two weeks and some salve he had turned it into a healthy tan.

"Well cousin, what would you have us do? The cat is away as it were, so what shall the mice play?" Draco asked with his slow drawl and casual smirk as they two strolled through Diagon Alley; Iris was mainly window shopping today though she did have one particular interest, "I need to see a man about a wand." Iris said quietly and looked at her companion as he turned to her; whatever he saw in her eyes sufficed him as he nodded.

"Do you have the comb?" He asked as the pair slipped into a shadowed alley between two closely packed together shops. The girl smiled and positioned her satchel purse in front of her stomach and reached in to produce the dragonbone, "It's never far from hand, I assure you."

With a carefully held image in her mind she brushed the comb through her hair and took on the appearance of a young woman in her twenties with long straight brown hair and plain features. Neither comely nor homely but plain and nondescript, the sort of person who fades into the background and is completely unremarkable.

A second brush of the comb through Draco's hair and he took on an appearance that was similar enough to be siblings but different enough that no one would think them twins, especially since she gave the boy a slightly older appearance.

With the illusion constructed, Iris slipped the comb back into the satchel and positioned it along her side as the pair strode through the cluttered shopping district with nary a glance spared their way since there was nothing to see.

They found themselves in front of a familiar store front before too long and they slipped in casually, the faint chime of a bell ringing as the door swung both open and shut before the lower sound of a click as Draco threw the bolt on the door at a look from the woman with her chestnut hair.

Ollivander's store hadn't much changed in the year since Iris had been there last, it was still a dimly lit store packed with shelves that reached up into the rafters and filled with an assortment of dusty boxes containing wands that had been collected and made over the ages since the Romans first came to the isles.

Ollivander himself stood behind the counter now, his unkempt white hair and wide pale eyes shining in the gloom of his shops as he examined the two before him curiously. He had never seen either before, he knew that for sure; he could recall every wand he had ever sold and he was certain that these two had never purchased a wand from him. Or had they?

He was getting on in years now and he couldn't be sure but they way the man by the door lounged against the wall spoke of an air of familiarity though the woman gave his store a good looking over it was the stare of comparison, she was weighing the image against some other preconceived notion and he wondered what it was.

"Might I be of some help my dear?" Ollivander asked cautiously as he mentally measured the woman, he had been in his business for a good long time and such behavior became second nature, and what his eyes saw his mind decrypted.

She was powerful that much he could see by himself but she had little enough idea how powerful she herself was. But that wasn't the half of it, she was a woman awash in conflict; she stood with squared shoulders and light footing as though she were prepared for battle but her face had none of the tension; her eyes were hard and steely but gentle and disarming as well. It seemed to him that he had never seen a person who was surer of herself and more uncertain of whom she was.

Iris in the guise of the chestnut haired woman stepped forward and gave the wand maker a smile in greeting as she brushed a lock of hair out from in front of her face, "Good afternoon Master Ollivander," She spoke in a lilting soprano tinged with a French accent, Parisian if he had to guess at it.

As she approached the counter, the proprietor eyed her carefully as she reached into the brown leather satchel at her side and drew a foot and a half object swaddled in velvet and set it on the tabletop along with a roll of parchment, "I drew up some plans for some custom work but I'm no crafter to get it done. I'd like you to take a look and tell me if such a commission is possible."

"Nothing is impossible when it comes to wands, but like I've always said; it's the wand that chooses the witch my dear." Ollivander said as he unrolled the scroll that the girl had put on the table and paled at the design that had been so carefully scratched down as his eyes lifted to the velvet on the counter and then at the woman.

"I'm quite familiar with the phrase Master Ollivander, but I believe you understand that this is not the typical work that you're accustomed to providing." The woman said with a knowing smile as she parted the velvet and revealed eighteen inches of spiraled ivory that pulsed in time with a heartbeat though whose he could not say. As she laid a finger on the bone, the ethereal light flared from the horn and defined the shop's every shadow.

Ollivander swallowed heavily as the woman lifted her touch and the horn's ethereal light dimmed once more until there was just the gentle pulsing once more. "Quite so madam, quite so; I don't believe such a commission has ever been brought before an Ollivander. But with these plans I daresay it could be done but if I may… who is this for exactly?"

"Ah, a curious question that for who are we truly? But I suppose that your question is less philosophical and more literal, very well then… you may call me Echidna." The woman stated after a moment's consideration and turned looked at Ollivander with that same knowing smile, as if she had some great secret that he wasn't privy to.

The wand maker nodded his head in acceptance though he knew that surely was not her real name, "As you say madam, still this is a unique commission it'll take some time to make this and to do it properly. I still have customers coming for their wands for the next school term, but I suppose that barring any mishaps it should be done by June."

"I'll need it done by the first week of June and have no worry, I'll send for it once it's complete." The woman said as she covered the horn in the velvet cloth once more and slid it across the counter, though her eyes never left his and he could not wrench his gaze away from those swirling emerald eyes that were suddenly flecked with gold.

"Silence, Master Ollivander; I bid you hold this in confidence." She said quietly and he could feel the vibration of magic in the air as she said those words and he knew that this was no command to that he would be able to disregard.

"Of course, Lady Echidna; my word is my bond." He replied politely but regretted the words as soon as they parted from his lips as he felt the wash of magic over him, at wrist and ankles and across his throat. He had said those words a hundred thousand times before but never had he felt the magic of the Old Laws settle on him.

Still smiling, Iris turned away and with a glance at Draco; he reversed the bolt and the pair swept out of the store leaving the aged wand maker behind trembling softly as he carried the horn and parchments to his work room in the rear of the shop.

"Echidna, the Mother of Monsters; she will do great things one day. Terrible things, magnificent things; but all will be great things." He muttered to himself as he unfolded the scroll once more and looked at what the woman had left for him to build.

He brushed aside the velvet and looked upon the spiraled ivory that would be incorporated and remembered its brilliant light. Wonderingly, he stretched hand to the bone but withdrew it with a yelp as electricity arched from the horn to his finger tips and scalded him in reprimand as the room filled with a soft tinkling laughter, ancient and powerful.

"What sort of bargain have I entered into?" He asked the newly silent room as a quiet shudder ran up his spine as he recalled eyes of emerald and gold.

* * *

><p>The pair returned to the streets of Diagon Alley and mixed with the crowd while Iris dispelled the illusion that she had placed upon herself and Draco before they slipped into Twilfit and Tattings to collect Liatris who was looking over the packaging of a few boxes that held her new robes and uniform.<p>

"Get everything alright sis?" Iris asked as she came up on her sister's flank and set her chin down on the girl's shoulder as she hugged her from behind. Liatris was a bare ten months younger than herself though by all rights she should have been closer to a year but she had been born premature.

When the mediwizards of St. Mungo's had first seen the girl that had been unsure if she would survive her infancy and for a long time in the girl's youth she had suffered from a semi distressed respiratory condition. Her parents said that it was the scariest thing they had ever gone through because Liatris had never cried, but as got older the issue had mostly been out grown.

The only issue the witch suffered from now was sporadic asthma attacks that flared up when she was stressed out so the girl had developed an iron will to keep herself in check when she felt it coming on. It had the tendency to make people think she was a mule headed little girl but her family knew better than that.

"Yep, I'm all squared away; Yahya came by though. Lord Malfoy's boss came by with a special assignment so Aunt Cissy had to head back and get things ready while I was being fitted. She said that Lord Malfoy would be by to pick us up at Flourish and Blotts in an hour though so we shoul get our books." The auburn haired girl informed them with a pleasant smile though Draco was frowning at the news.

"What's the matter? You have a tummy ache or something?" Liatris asked the platinum blonde with a look of concern that actually got the little peacock to quirk a smile and he mussed her hair playfully.

"No, I don't have tummy ache; but Father doesn't have a boss, not really anyway. He's Chief Ambassador for the Ministry of Magic, which means he answers directly to the Minister." He informed them while Liatris scowled at him as she tried to arrange her hair back into semblance of neatness.

Iris caught his drift though, "Fudge is an idiot though; he's always going to Dumbledore for advice and such. Lord Malfoy sees him on a daily basis as it is, why bother him over the weekend unless something really drastic happened? And then why not go to the Headmaster?"

Draco nodded his head in agreement while Iris signed the receipt for the seamstress and the trio left the clothing outfitter and headed for the book store down the street while they mulled over the information and pondered hopelessly without the rest of the facts.

The street in front of the book store was choked with people and a sign on the outside proclaimed that the famous Gilderoy Lockhart was inside for a book signing and Iris recalled only too well the happenings of Harry's second DADA professor and she was quite pleased that she had Professor Riddle instead. Riddle was a cold, aloof, and at times ostentatious man who seemed to have never learned how to smile but he was a good teacher and exceptionally learned.

As they entered the shop Draco picked up a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _which Iris and her sister forsook since they were using their mother's school books and they filed up to the second floor to peruse the titles and watch the activities down below. As Iris expected, the Weasley clan was on the ground floor collecting their books and sticking out like a sore thumb beside Ron Weasley was Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived.

The sight of the pudgy, brown eyed child stirred a wraith in the raven haired girl and her fingers twitched as the desire to hex him burned strongly for a moment before Draco's hand squeezed her shoulder. "Hexing him won't be a good idea with all these witnesses but you let me do a bit of provoking and no one will look twice if he catches a black eye in the middle of a brawl that he started."

Iris smirked devilishly and nodded her head in agreement, "If anyone asks, you're my favorite cousin Draco." She said and gave the platinum blonde a peck on the cheek as they resumed their vigil while Liatris laughed at her sister's declaration. "If he's our cousin he gets my vote for favorite too, he's way better than Dudleykins." She teased playfully to which the elder girl nodded her head in profuse agreement.

"Aunt Petunia is going to kill that boy with all the food she serves him, sooner or later he'll just keel over of a coronary." Iris said offhand as she watched Lockhart peer into the crowd after the Daily Prophet photographer stepped on Ron's foot and his forget-me-not blue eyes locked onto the boy.

Iris had to admit Gilderoy wasn't all that bad looking, lightly tanned skin with wavy blond hair and a handsome face; but knowing who and what he really was squashed anything other than an appreciation for his good looks.

"It can't be…is that _Neville Longbottom_!" Lockhart exclaimed as the crowd parted around the boy celebrity and the blond man lunged forward, his hand clamped down around the boys upper arm and he pulled him forward into a one armed side hug as the crowd began to applaud wildly for the pair.

Iris knew from experience exactly what the man was saying through his pearly white teeth and unlike Harry, Neville was quick to put on a convincing smile as he shook the other's hand for the camera and drank up the attention as eagerly as Lockhart did. The raven haired girl cast a look around the room at all the witches and wizards in the room who were smiling sappily like the sheep they were.

Even Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were practically fawning, taking in Ginny's stare she traced the girl's gaze to Neville and shook her head. The fates were cruel in their jests as the girl was just as infatuated with this Savior as she had been with Harry in the other universe. Hero worship was unhealthy as far as Iris was concerned, role models sure but putting someone on a pedestal just wasn't smart to do.

"Ladies and gentleman, this is truly a most fortuitous occasion! This is just the moment to make a little announcement I've been holding onto…" The man paused and flashed one of his charming smiles at the crowd and Iris gave a snort of disgust as the jam packed room of middle aged witches all but swooned with stupid grins of their own.

"But first… ladies and gentlemen, when Neville Longbottom came into Flourish and Blotts today to purchase my autobiography _Magical Me _he had no idea he would be leaving with an entire signed collection of my work. Free of charge of course…" He continued with that same too perfect smile on his face and the women clapped enthusiastically at the pronouncement.

"Furthermore, he had no idea that he would be getting much more in the bargain and not just him! Oh, no! You see, He and his schoolmates will soon be getting the actual magical me, I have the great pleasure to announce that for the upcoming school term I will be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts!" He announced proudly and to a profound burst of applause and she couldn't help the sneer of disgust that twist her features.

Liatris crossed her arms and looked at her sister, "I thought Professor Riddle was the head of the DADA department and didn't Dad say that he was just getting the Assistant Professor title?" the auburn hair girl asked confused by the pronouncement from the handsome blond man.

"He's just playing it up for the crowd Liatris, Assistant doesn't sound all that grandiose and he can't afford to be seen as anything but the very best." Draco replied as he watched Neville graciously thank the man and declare proudly that he was sure to be the best Defense teacher the school had ever seen.

"He's going to regret those words when the paper gets published; Riddle is going to make his life hell." Iris stated with a feral smirk as she imagined Nagini coiling around the boy in his chair in class but a cool voice from behind her slashed through the reverie and sent a tingle up her spine.

"Oh yes I will and if I have my way about it, I'll see Lockhart reduced as well; his ego makes Longbottom's seem small in comparison." Tom Riddle stated from behind the trio amassed on the railing of the second floor, his perpetual boredom set aside for the moment as he had an amused smirk on his face as he looked at the events below with a thick tome held in one hand.

As usual he was dressed in the crisp white long-sleeved shirt with the top two buttons undone to reveal an expanse of hairless chest and the faint glimmer of a silver chain, the shirt hung over the top of his tailored black trousers that hug his trim waist and fell unwrinkled to his polished shoes.

'The man must have a wardrobe of those clothes; it's all he ever wears if he's given a choice.' Iris thought to herself though she did appreciate how the fitted clothing displayed the man's physique without giving away anything besides that.

"I'll hold you to that Professor; I'd hate for you to set a bad example by failing to keep your word." Iris said with a mischievous grin as she leaned her back against the railing, dismissing the events below as Neville did a bit more grandstanding before he moved over to Ginny and bequeathed onto her his books as token.

"Professor, do we really need to waste our money buying his books?" Draco asked as he looked at the stack in Ginny's cauldron down below and how she was staring puppy eyed at the Boy Wonder with a frown on his face as he summed the wasted money, Liatris nodded her head in agreement whether because she was following the examples of the elder children or if she honestly shared their sentients.

"Don't bother Mister Malfoy, there's nothing in those books save for lavish embellishments and prettied stories. I'll cover the pertinent defense strategies but you'll stick to the readings I assign though unfortunately I can do nothing about the poor children who will actually fill themselves with that nonsense." Riddle said with an aggrieved roll of his eyes as he foresaw the older girls coming to him with wearying questions about taming werewolves with their soothing songs.

Iris smiled at the man's reaction, this was the Tom Riddle she liked to see the honest man under the aloof shell and when his gaze returned to her and he caught her smile his lip twitched for a moment in what might have been a facsimile of her own expression before he donned his mask once more.

"I will have to wait until the school year to begin my tortures but there's no reason you can't begin the torment. I would very much like to see Longbottom knocked down a peg or three." Riddle said as he gave them a wave of dismissal and opened the tome in his hand, a phantom hand riffling through the pages until it settled on what he wanted.

Draco and Liatris shared a look and promptly descended the stairs; Iris could easily hear cousin's cutting remark from her position but she didn't move, "Just a suggestion Professor but you should smile more often; I've heard it's good for you… keeps you young." The girl teased lightly and held her smile even as he turned a smoldering gaze on her over the corner of her book.

"I'm not old!" He growled harshly as crimson began to bud in his obsidian orbs but Iris didn't even bat an eyelash as her smile turned into a smirk, "I never said you were I just said it'd keep you young." With a wink she descended down the stairs with a musical laugh like wind chimes that foreshadowed the lilting soprano voice she would grow into someday.

Riddle realized that he had just been outmaneuvered by a twelve year old he couldn't help the small smile and the chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest, "Impertinent chit." He muttered to himself with a shake of his head as he leaned against the railing and watched as the youngest Weasley snapped to Longbottom's defense.

"You leave him alone! Lockhart was the one who called him up!" Ginny proclaimed as she glared daggers at Draco but the platinum blonde turned her words aside and riposted quickly, "Oh certainly he was called upon but he basked in that spotlight just the same. But where are my manners, it seems you failed to introduce me to your girlfriend here Longbottom."

Ginny flushed scarlet at the remark and Neville eyed the boy wickedly as he trembled with rage, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to make a comeback but only managed to make himself look more the fool for his effort.

He was spared having to say anything as Ron shouldered through the crowd as looked at Draco as though he were something foul he had just stepped in. "Oh, it's you!" the redheaded youth stated with a grimace of distaste, "I bet you didn't expect Neville to get singled out by Lockhart over you, eh?"

Without missing a beat, the heir to Malfoy turned his attention to the newcomer and gave him a pointed examination, "I'm more surprised to see you here Weasley, I suppose your parents will be starving for the next fortnight to see your little clan outfitted for school year." He drawled lazily and looked over the boy's shoulder to see his Mrs. Weasley, "Though, I suppose that isn't necessarily a bad thing." He finished with a smirk as Ron flushed a deep scarlet that set his neck and ears to match his hair.

Ron dumped his set of books in Ginny's cauldron as well, the sudden addition of the weight caused her shoulders to stoop and the pewter to thump to the floor, but the boy didn't seem to notice as he cocked back his arm as those to strike the platinum blonde but he paused as Liatris slipped in front of him and fixed the Weasley boy with a chilly gaze, her hazel eyes daring him to try and get through her.

Ron back pedaled away from Liatris' haughty gaze as Iris descended the stairs behind Draco and her younger sister and fixed Neville with a chilly stare that actually caused him to shudder under the scrutiny. Ginny noticed the look that passed between the two and stepped in front of the boy in a mirror to Liatris' pose before Draco.

Iris felt a twinge of dislike for the girl at that, she knew nothing about the boy she was defending; had no knowledge of his cravenness in the face of adversity. 'Or his fascination with blood, it excites him to see it spilt,' the thought rose unbidden but Iris could recall those watery brown eyes of his staring in fascination as blood flowed and she knew that it was memory and not dream but not from whence it came.

From Riddle's position it looked as though lines had been clearly drawn, the Potter children coming to Malfoy's aid against the Weasley children and Longbottom. Unfortunately to his eyes there was something lacking in Iris' gaze, he could see the malevolent fury she had for Neville and a palpable contempt.

She had not learned the lesson that he desperately needed her to learn to turn her to him, she had not yet drunk from the black goblet of hatred. She had not learned how it could fortify and strengthen, not yet begun to nurse and cradle it, but she was nearly there. All it would take was one little push.

"Well, what do we have here?" Lucius Malfoy drawled as he stepped into the bookstore and looked upon the scene before him with a raised eyebrow, his son stood flanked by the Potter children against a pair of ginger haired children in soot covered secondhand robes and one pudgy boy richly dressed (if in poor taste) with a scar upon his forehead.

"Ah, I see. The Weasley's and Neville Longbottom, Draco has told me much about you." Lucius continued as he disregarded the obvious tension between the children as he swept Draco and Liatris to the side with his black snakehead cane and advanced upon the Longbottom child and extended his hand politely as he gave the semblance of a smile though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

While Neville may not have liked the man's child, even he knew Lucius Malfoy was a high placed man with many connections; it would not do to seem impolite. Moving out from behind Ginny, he grabbed the man's hand and had to bite back a cry at the vice grip that he found himself in while his bangs were brushed aside by the silver head of the man's cane.

"Your scar is quite legendary, as is the man who gave it to you." The pureblood Lord stated as he examined the disfigurement closely for a moment before the boy drew back sharply from his grasp and fixed him with a stare of loathing. "Grindelwald murdered my mother! He was nothing more than a murderer!" He spat vehemently as he yanked back his hand violently.

"Ron!" Mr. Weasley's voice was half shouting to cut through the din of the bookstore as he struggled through the crowd with Fred and George at his side, "What are you doing? Come on; let's get outside, far too crowded in here."

"Well, well, well…Arthur Weasley," The tall blonde man settled his hands on his son's shoulders and gave a look at the Potter girls, there was a faint look of approval in those silver grey eyes of his where before he had only contempt for the Potter clan it seemed their defense of his heir and only child had warmed him to these two at the very least.

"Lucius," Arthur Weasley returned the greeting with a curt nod and a cold hard stare, though Lord Malfoy seemed not to care in the least as he fixed the patriarch with a sneer and a scathing look of his own. Mr. Weasley flinched.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids… I do hope they're paying you overtime for that." Lord Malfoy said as he reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted from all of the gloosy new Lockhart books a tattered and beaten copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_.

"I suppose not," Lucius muttered as he looked at the textbook disdainfully then raised his eyes to see Iris Potter giving him an odd measuring look and somehow he knew he was being judged and it was vitally important for some reason that he been in the right here.

The biting remark that he had planned to make was left unspoken and instead he deposited the book back into Ginerva's cauldron, "Here child, this is the best your father can afford." But under the cover of the book it was a simple thing to let the gold bracelet tucked into the hem of his sleeve, slip into the cauldron too.

Looking up briefly he met the coolly observant eyes of Tom Riddle, he gave the man a barely perceptible nod and received one in turn; there was a message transmitted there, silent but telling all the same. The job was done; the Dark Lord's will was done.

Turning his gaze on Arthur Weasley, he gave a derisive sniff and looked at the three children standing by his side, "Come Draco; Iris, Liatris, let's not tarry long among the rabble." He said with a warmer smile for them and he noticed that the emerald eyed girl was looking at him with something akin to approval.

Well, it mattered little if she liked him at all; she and her sibling had kept faith with his boy against their Housemates, they were true Gryffindors; loyal and brave and on Draco's side. Fools they might be, loyalty was weakness that kept you from saving your own skin but sometimes it could rescue you from frigid waters too. For their loyalty, the least he could do was grant them his favor and be thankful they were half-bloods at the very least.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**September 1, 1992**

The last two weeks of summer holidays sped by too quickly for Iris' taste, though it seemed quite the opposite for Liatris who was more energetic by the day it seemed. By the time September rolled around, the younger girl was up with the crack of dawn and actually helped her mother and sister with breakfast though thankfully she had been relegated to just juicing some oranges (her last try at cooking had resulted in her actually burning soup).

Still it was a pleasant affair, only marked by the absence of their father; since the day was a Tuesday he had the ill fortune of having just come home after another long night. One of Arthur Weasley's raids had gotten some people in a sticky situation as they came on some rather illegal goods of a more malicious nature; it had sparked a new investigation and required that the Auror Captain get involved personally.

The girls polished off their breakfast and retreated back to the third floor to finishing getting ready for the day, which for Iris meant a warm shower and changing into comfortable street clothes while for Liatris it meant a hurried showered and finishing the packing of her trunk.

In any case, both girls stole away to their parent's bedroom to say their goodbyes to their father who stirred himself from his exhausted slumber to hug and kiss both of his daughters and give them the traditional farewell speech on pranks, fighting, and boys; namely prank often, finish but don't start fights, and no boys within thirty feet of their persons at any time.

By the time they left the man's room both girls were flush with laughter and the man was grumbling about finding a tower in the middle of the woods as he fluffed pillows.

Down in the foyer of the house Remus and Lily were waiting with the trunks and birdcages, Hedwig in hers and Liatris' new barn owl, Alba in hers. When the girls joined them, Iris sidled up to Remus and took hold of her belongings as the man settled his hand on her shoulder and then she was being sucked through a long straw.

The feeling came to an end as they popped back into the world inside the confines of a janitor's closet, the only illumination into the room coming from under the door but there was no shadows moving across the light so Remus pushed open the door and the pair stepped into a service hallway. At the end of the corridor with its beige painted walls and sandy tiled floor came the bustle of human traffic and the voices over an intercom announcing arrivals and departures from King's Cross station.

Behind them came the sound of a faint pop, like the bursting of bubblegum as Lily and Liatris arrived in the same closet a minute on the dot after the first two had arrived. Liatris looked absolutely green as she stumbled from the closet and took a moment to compose herself while Remus collected her trunk and bird cage.

"I hate Apparating, it feels like I'm being shoved into a box and squished!" Liatris grumbled as the party moved down the hallway and stepped out into the throng of people moving about their lives, they got a few glances of course as Hedwig and Alba hooted indignantly from being cooped up and possibly because they had stepped out of a door that said 'Authorized Personnel Only'

They weaved through the crowd easily; Remus' scarred visage leading the way and parting those in front of them like the bow of a ship parts the sea, those who tried to shoot him reproachful looks caught one look at his face and quickly shut up. The werewolf could be very frightful when he wished to be and so long as Liatris carried her owl's cage there was no mistaking him for a softie.

They made good time getting to the barrier, Lily and the younger girl went through first; simply making as though to lean on the bricked surface. They looked around to make sure no one was looking and then they slipped through unnoticed. Iris went next; she just cast a look around and then strode slowly and confidently through so no one gave her a passing glance.

Looking around the smoky platform, she found her sibling and mother standing by one of the boarding platforms of the train. Lily was already hugging her youngest daughter and teary eyed at the prospect of losing both her children for the next ten months; sure she might get them for a couple of weeks over the year but it was still hard to part.

Lily swiped ineffectually at her eyes as she tried to rub away her tears but it didn't keep them from coming back and she gave a strangled laugh as she suppressed a sob, "Look at me, I'm a right mess aren't I? About to break into tears when you're just going away for school!" The woman rebuked herself as she knelt in front of her daughters with a watery eyed smile.

Iris and Liatris just hugged they're mother and did their best to reassure her, the scene was the same all across the concrete platform as parents were seeing their children onto the train.

"Alright!" Lily took a deep breath and shook out her hands as she collected herself and then fixed her daughters with what would have been a stern gaze if her eyes weren't red and puffy, "Break as few rules as possible! Stay out of trouble! Do all your homework! And write me as often as you can!" Lily rattled of quickly, though she gave Iris a pointed look when she said the part about trouble.

The raven haired girl gave a demure and innocent look as she chose to interpret the statement as getting as few detentions as possible since the woman had said nothing about putting herself in the way of danger for the good of her school mates.

Remus on the other hand just gave a bark of laughter at her look and shook his head with a wolfish smile, a bit too much teeth but it fit his face and furthermore his nature, "Don't fret Lily, Iris has enough of your good sense to keep herself in one piece. Liatris though…" he trailed off with a shrug and the auburn haired girl gave him a swat on the arm in rebuke but smiled up at him all the same.

"Plenty of James in that one, I'm afraid Hogwarts will rue the day they admitted the Marauders redux. Between her and Pol, the castle is going to come down on everyone's head." He said with a wink and the girl laughed and gave him a wink back. Lily brought her hands together and looked up in prayer, "By all that's good in the world, keep the bill low and the deeds from expelling her."

It was only ten thirty by the time the siblings had finished their parting and made their way onto the train while there were still plenty of compartments left, though Iris made for the one at the very last car; the large one with the U shaped bench. But as she slid open the compartment door, she found that she wasn't the only one who had the notion.

Already seated at the far end of the compartment were a pair of familiar faces, Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini were engrossed in discussion though they paused and looked up at the new arrivals. With a yip of joy, the brunette bounded across the length of the room and hugged her friend tightly while the Italian moved across the room at a more sedate pace but hugged her just as tightly before he bowed graciously over Liatris' hand and greeted her in his silky native language.

Iris cuffed the boy on the shoulder good naturedly as her sister was blushing furiously though it was a pretty blush, lighting her tanned cheeks rosily and not coming anywhere close to the deep red hue of her hair that looked like spun copper when the light hit it.

It was definitely a more pleasant blush than one would find on any of the Weasley children who lit up face, neck, and ears to meet the garish red of their own hair tone.

He took their feather light trunks and bird cages and set them up onto the racks overhead while the two new additions settled in Hermione brought them up to speed on the argument she was having with Blaise.

"Aren't you guys looking forward to having Mr. Lockhart here this year? I bet we're going to learn loads from him, I've already read all his books!" Hermione gushed excitedly her eyes lighting up at the prospect of having such a learned instructor coming to Hogwarts.

Blaise shook his head as he resumed his seat, "I've been trying to explain to Hermione that we have a perfectly good instructor who is mind you, one of the most powerful wizards on the planet. Lockhart is doing this as a publicity stunt and nothing more."

Liatris was quick to involve herself and share the information that they had garnered back in the book shop, "Professor Riddle told us not to bother buying the books, he said that Lockhart's books were full of rubbish and that the little truth they had he would teach us anyway. Besides, he's only coming to Hogwarts to escape his fans; Dad told us that too."

Hermione looked almost stricken at the words and her eyes widened in shock as she looked at the incoming First Year in horror but Blaise was laughing with validation. "No way someone like him gives up the spotlight for a teaching gig even if it is at Hogwarts!" he crowed delightedly though the brunette shot him a scowl.

The conversation was disrupted once again as the compartment door slid open to grant admittance to Draco and Daphne, the blondes wondered in simultaneously and got wedged as they both tried to pass through the threshold. Draco had to back out to let Daphne in first and then had to pack away both their trunks as the heiress greeted everyone.

"I see you've wasted no time catching up, Draco was telling me all about what happened in Diagon Alley at the book signing. It seems your sister is just as fiery as you Iris, perhaps a bit more impetuous but just as fiery." The honey blonde said as she threw an arm around the younger girl's shoulders companionably.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at the statement and looked at the raven haired girl expectantly but Draco spared her the need to answer as he flopped down gracelessly besides Blaise, "I picked a fight with Longbottom and Weasley, once I riled them up and he was about to pounce; Lia got right in the middle and stared him down."

Liatris was flushing under all the attention but she had a cheeky little smile as they praised her for standing up for Draco and even Iris smiled fondly at her sister before she looked at the wristwatch she was wearing and counted down the seconds to eleven o'clock and watched the final trickle of students boarding the train.

From the shocks of ginger hair she was able to sum up that one clan member was missing along with a certain pudgy boy that she had a severe dislike for. 'Oh Dobby, I hope you're making his life hell.' Iris thought wistfully to herself as the train jerked and began to roll out of the station with shouts of farewell between parents and children though the Weasley parents were looking all around the platform for the last of their brood in panic.

For just a few moments she entertained the idea that Neville might actually be expelled for what they were going to do and she would be blissfully rid of his annoyances but the reality of the situation ensured that he would stay firmly in the sight of Dumbledore and more importantly, within her sight.

* * *

><p>The train arrived in Hogsmeade well after sunset; something that Iris had actually taken the time to watch as the train screeched down the tracks like some hulking metal beast leaving behind a column of smog in its wake. It had been a pleasure to watch the star sink beneath the horizon and color the sky in fans of crimson that faded to rose and magenta before darkening to purple at the farthest reaches, turning the clouds into canvases for the most exotic of combinations of hues.<p>

The sky had long since turned to navy blue and an argent cerulean in the face of the moon and beneath the stars, though the lights of the village and the castle beyond obscure the more heavenly illumination above.

As Iris stepped off from the train she was lost for a moment to the sea of humanity as the elder students flitted off to the coaches and Hagrid rounded up the first years to take them by way of the lake. She fought clear of the press of the masses and was soon joined by her friends and sister.

Liatris glanced over at Hagrid and his booming call, the man stood head and shoulders above even the tallest of students, and she swallowed heavily as her confidence fled and doubt flared up in the pit of her stomach like a living beast, churning her guts and filling her with nausea.

Iris was quick to notice her sister's unease and placed a hand comfortingly on her shoulder, "It'll be alright Lia, it's just a boat ride and trying on a hat; nothing more than that." She assured the younger girl, who nodded stiffly in return and offered her elder sister a wan smile before making her way down to the boats where she rejoined Pollux Black.

She wanted to linger for a few minutes moments more but Blaise ushered her along and they went over to coaches around the corner where they were lined up along either side of the main street. It was curious to see the thestrals again Iris thought to herself as she walked through the aisle in the center, the black leathery beasts were as clear as day to her.

Strange since she hadn't seen death in this lifetime as far as she knew but she also knew that all that it mattered more that one accept and understand the concept of mortality, which was a thing she knew well enough through Harry.

Still it was unsettling to see something that no one else could see, especially at twelve but what was there to do for it but carry on and get into one of the large black carriages and let herself be carried off to the great stone castle that loomed in the distance in the shadow of a mountain range with its windows aglow with light.

Once Iris and her companions were seated comfortably the coach began to roll along the rutted street jostling the occupants within gently about, probably some form of Cushioning Charm to keep things more comfortable for the students.

Her friends were talking amicably amongst themselves but she couldn't bring herself to pay them much mind as her thoughts were with Liatris, the sister that she had known all her life and then rediscovered only a bit longer than a year ago.

In the short time that Harry had come to be a part of her, she had learned that many things she had taken for granted in the past were so very precious and dear to her heart. Most people didn't learn to appreciate the things they had until they were gone, to understand that every moment with those you care about was a moment worth remembering because all too soon they were gone.

Her sister was halfway across the lake by now even as Iris was pulling up through the sloping lawn on the school's western face to the Entrance Hall's massive oak double doors, she would be seeing Iris first home, and her home away from home. There was another thing that she had learned recently, that one thing could have many meanings and how many things could have no meaning at all.

Stepping into the Great Hall was like walking into a curtain of sound, a thousand voices all talking at once, each voice carrying a message that wanted telling and ears to listen.

"You alright Iris?" Draco asked as he stood by her side at the threshold, her other friends had moved into the room to let people by but they had turned around to look at her and there was worry in those eyes.

She nodded her head and pecked her cousin on the cheek, "I'm fine Draco, just a bit anxious to see where Liatris goes." She confided honestly though it wasn't the whole truth but everyone was entitled to their moments of deep thought and she didn't think this the time to get into a philosophical discussion over any of them.

Smiling at Daphne and Blaise, she took Hermione's arm in hers and they crossed to the west side of the hall to take their seats amongst their fellow Gryffindors on the far table, the complete opposite side of the room from their Slytherin brethren.

The Welcoming Feast began as it always did students at the tables were hungry and talkative, swapping tales of summer adventures that whittled away at the minutes until it seemed every student was seated and the High Table populated by its staff.

Sitting in the center of the table in his gilded throne was Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, dressed in shimmering blue robes of hammered velvet with his matching hat sitting atop his mane of silver hair and his beard reaching down into his lap. His eyes were twinkling merrily as he swept his gave over the students, his hands folded neatly atop the table where a large gold ring with its blood red stone shining in the light.

At his right hand was a smaller throne in silver that sat empty as it waited for the Deputy Headmaster, Tom Riddle, to sit upon its cushions but he was down in the dungeons; awaiting the landing of the incoming first years.

On Dumbledore's left, in the seat of honor was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart himself in gaudy robes of bronze that complimented his skin well and made his eyes seem brighter but were no less ostentatious for it. The man was chatting amicably to the Headmaster and it seemed that the wizened man was conversing back politely though the smile that was on his face seemed a bit more forced than it usually did.

Iris felt a twinge of pity for the man as he had to put up with the fraudulent author but only for a moment as she remembered his compulsions and half-truths from the previous year. It seemed a fitting punishment that a manipulator must suffer the incompetence of another manipulator, if perhaps a less dangerous one.

Some of the females on staff were openly staring at the man though it was noticeable that even some of the men at the high table were staring at him as well; but from the barely hidden sneer on Snape's face it was quite apparent that not all of the stares were in good faith.

Severus must have felt the weight of her gaze as he turned his head and caught Iris' emerald eyes and the sneer turned into a smirk and he gave her a small nod of his head that she returned with a bright smile before she jerked her chin at Lockhart and made a face that left the Potions Master's shoulders quivering and his lips twitching so he took a sip from his goblet to hide his reaction and shot her a baleful glare that was marred by the small smile on his dour face.

The Headmaster watched the silent exchange between the two from behind half moon spectacles and couldn't help but agree with the young witch. Gilderoy had been a student at Hogwarts in the Ravenclaw house but the clever boy that had once shown great promise in spellcrafting was long gone and replaced by the megalomaniac besides him. It was a regrettable loss but he couldn't save all of his students, least of all from themselves.

He did have several successes however; he had brought Severus back into the fold and reined in Tom from his path of self destruction in his dabbling of the Dark Arts. And his newest projects of course, the careful molding of Neville Longbottom into the leader that he needed him to be and honing Iris Potter into the weapon that the savior would wield against Grindelwald.

That was vitally important to Albus as he fingered the ruby on his finger, the ruby that had been forged from the girl's very blood. Gellert was still alive, he had suspected as much before but after the events of last year he was certain; honestly he had never suspected that the man would come into the castle himself but he had known about his agent and seen to his destruction.

But the man that he had known was persistent to a fault and would never stop until he was dead or broken. Grindelwald was a dreamer turned revolutionary and a charismatic one at that, he had turned all of Europe upside down in the pursuit of his ideals and Dumbledore had helped him do it for a time.

Dumbledore's train of thought was interrupted for a moment as Tom lead in the class of First Years through the center aisle between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables all the way up to the dais and the stool where the Sorting Hat rested. The wide brim began to stir and he could hear the beginning of a rhyme begin but he paid it no mind as he returned to his thoughts.

Gellert had spurned his love and Grindelwald had killed his sister, both facets of the man could not be allowed to do what he had done in Europe to the Isles; him and his apprentice Voldemort had tried over a decade ago and it had been bloodily fought but he had been put down like the rabid dog he was.

Never again would he allow that man to sweep death and destruction across a land of innocent people, Dumbledore had stood at the levies and broken that wave but the price had been too high, too many had perished and too many had slipped through to peacefully reintegrate.

No, this time he would fight fire with fire; he would burn all the oxygen from the space by striking harder, fiercer and more devastatingly then Grindelwald had ever done. Neville would lead his army in the war to come and Iris would be the sword that slew his adversaries, it must be so. For the Greater Good.

'Yes, Neville will be a good boy and do as he is commanded so long as the reward is greater glory. What could be more glorious than vanquishing two Dark Lords?' Dumbledore thought to himself as he swept his eyes across the Gryffindor table for his young champion but he was curiously absent. Him and that Weasley boy; why were they missing?

As if to answer his very question Argus Filch entered the Great Hall and sidled across the length of the room while the Sorting was going on to whisper into Snape's ear but what was distance to the Headmaster when he had magic. Brushing a finger against his ear he was suddenly privy to the information being whispered half a table down from himself and he learned that a flying Ford Angelina had crashed into the Whomping Willow.

Severus rose and departed swiftly, his robes billowing out behind him like dark wings as he swept past the Slytherin table. Lockhart stared at the Potions Master's retreating back with a raised eyebrow, no doubt considering if he should use the trick himself or if would make him seem to imposing and unapproachable.

But Snape's flight from the Hall was not ignored by all, Iris took notice and she knew exactly what was going to happen. She didn't hide the smile she had at the thought of the chewing out that Neville was going to get though she did feel a bit bad for Ron, but her attention was drawn back to the children amassed at the front of the room.

Pollux Black had already taken a seat at Gryffindor besides Colin Creevy and the were conversing quietly as Liatris rose to the stool and sat down upon it, Riddle lowering the hat onto her head gently as the room stilled to silence; expectantly waiting for the verdict.

Under the brim of the hat, Liatris looked out over the room and locked onto her sister's emerald eyes; _"You're very attached to your sister aren't you dear?" _a voice asked her, sounding as though it were coming from everywhere and nowhere. She knew it was the Sorting Hat of course, but the knowing and the experience were very different things.

"_It is at that, but you haven't answered my question; but why bother, I already know the answer to the question. You're very clever my dear, a sharp mindlike yours could go far in Ravenclaw; and there is diligence in you too, Hufflepuff would find you friends just as stubborn and determined as you." _The sorting hat was whispering in her mind, but the auburn haired girl shook her head resolutely.

"You know where I want to go, I belong with my sister!" She muttered under her breath to the hat on top of her head.

"_Aye, and I see the loyalty and courage that would see you in the House of Gryffindor; but to go there is to live in your sister's shadow. The star Seeker, top of her class, a natural leader, in time beautiful and powerful; you will always be measured against her." _The Sorting Hat whispered into her mind and Liatris could see the truth of that statement, even she measured herself against the model of her sister.

Iris was better on a broom, better at potions, better with a wand; but she had never felt inferior to her sister, the girl had always been at her side. Encouraging, reassuring, a rock in the storm that never wavered and always watched out for her.

"I'll just have to cast a light of my own, live my own life and live it for myself but she's always been there for me and been my rock. I need to be there to do the same for her; you know where to put me." Liatris whispered back fiercely, her eyes never left her sister's and she could see the concern in those vibrant green pools, the same eyes that had always watched out for her and been companion to her own.

"_Loyalty like yours is rare, even among sisters Liatris. Your sister has a hard path to walk, it is a path few have walked and fewer who have stood the course; she will change everything and be changed for doing it. She will have need of you but she will never ask it of you, catch her when she stumbles and pick her up when she falls." _The voice of the Sorting Hat was ancient then, a thousand years old and filled with a thousand years of judgments.

"_The lion's pride is only as strong as its weakest member, your gift is to turn weakness to strength; and for that you belong to… _GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat finally cried into the heavy silence and the Hall was filled with cheers as Liatris stripped off the hat and set it down on the stool, though her hand was still on the brim when she told the dirty old hat thank you before she moved to her House and slid into a seat between Pol and her sister.

"That was a long sorting Lia, how many Houses did the Hat see you in?" Iris asked her sister as she welcomed her to the table and finished introducing her to everyone.

"He saw me in one House, but he wanted me to see that too." Liatris replied with a smile as she turned her head back towards the Hat and was drawn instead to the twinkling eyes of the Headmaster and saw in those sky blue eyes a gleam of curiosity and a calculating consideration that sent a shiver down her spine.

She averted her eyes quickly and took a deep breath as she remembered what the Hat told her, _'I turn weakness into strength. But who do I make strong and who do I leave weak?' _she question silently to herself as the Headmaster rose and gave the usual notices on magic usage and the Forbidden Forest.

Then he departed the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall on his heels to deal with whatever situation had called away Professor Snape earlier. But her hazel eyes went back to the High Table as the tables were sudden laden with food, the wood groaning slightly under the weight of the feast. She found obsidian eyes staring back at her from the Deputy Headmaster's chair except they weren't focused on her, they looked right past her and settled on her sister.

Professor Riddle looked bored and listlessly making conversation with Professor Lockhart as the blonde man spoke across the Headmaster's empty throne but she knew the look in those eyes well. She saw them frequently in her sister's eyes whenever she talked about the Defense instructor, though she thought she hid it well much like the professor himself thought he did.

There was a desperate wanting in those eyes but there was a fierce set to his jaw, an adamant will in the tension around his temples and a wary outlook in the faint shadows under his eyes.

'_I turn weakness into strength,' _Liatris repeated to herself and nodded her head as she turned back to the table and began loading food onto her golden plate, she knew the person she would need to make strong. If the Hat was right, her sister would need him to be.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Shorter chapter than usual but things are picking up on my end since finals are coming up and truth be told, I had some difficulty trying to get through this part of the story. I could have tagged some fluff onto the Antigua vacation but figured that in favor of the pacing I would just spear through it and get to the good stuff.

**Next Chapter: **_September_


	12. Chapter X

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed last chapter and continued to encourage me and stuck out the extra wait for this chapter. I apologize for the late delivery but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and take it is as my sincere apology for making you wait.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter X**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**September 2, 1992**

Following the end of the feast, the students were dismissed and made their way to their common rooms; by tradition the First Years had to go up with the prefects so Iris and Hermione told Liatris and Pollux that they would meet them back up in the tower.

Of course, on the way up the many flights of stairs word was already being passed around that Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley had been absent at the feast and that some of the students standing closest to the doors of the Great Hall had seen the boys being dragged to the dungeons by Professor Snape, and later followed by Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster.

This wasn't particularly mind blowing news for Iris since Harry had gone through the same episode and you could only watch a rerun so many times until it got boring and you knew all the lines. Turns out that all it takes is once when you're not in the moment to feel the exhilaration and terror for the hearsay to get dull.

In any case by the time they got to the Common Room, the large circular room was packed to the edges with students waiting to greet the heroes of the hour, even the first years were sticking around but Liatris still had a sour taste in her mouth about the boys since Diagon Alley two weeks prior and having to share a dormitory with Ginny Weasley hadn't done anything for her disposition about the family so they had retreated up the stairs quickly enough with only parting words for the heir of Black.

Liatris stopped on the first landing and since she was the first girl into her room, she got dibs on the bed that she wanted; in this case siblings thought alike as she grabbed the four poster at the far end of the room. With a hug from Hermione and kiss on the head from Iris, the elder girls left the girl to get settled while they continued up to the second landing and into their own room.

The room seemed a bit larger than the first year dormitory, each four poster was just a bit bigger it seemed and there was some extra space in between each night stand and the next bed. The brazier in the center of the room was cold and empty so the bedchamber was quite comfortable as the brunette and the raven haired girl grabbed their trunks and claimed the choice spots.

To Iris went the far bed, the window alcove being just past the bed and allowing the moon to shine through and onto her, the other girls had thought it a romantic flight of fancy that she slept better drenched in moonlight but knowing who was backing her; it didn't seem all that strange at all.

But while the moonlight assisted her slumber and the comforting presence of the goddess of magic kept back the dark nightmares that were birthed from memories of another time and place, it did little to hold back the march of time and all too soon she found herself in another position, with sunlight streaming in through the same window to pierce the lids of her eyes and cast away half remembered dreams of combat and the sour stench of fear.

Iris woke feeling restless that morning and drenched in a cold sweat that had left her clammy and with a pounding headache. Her mood wasn't lightened at all even after a shower under scalding hot water and going through her hair with a wide toothed comb that usually refreshed and relaxed her because everyone was still gushing and exulting over the arrival of Neville and Ron the previous evening.

Hermione and Liatris were quick to pick up on her mood as she readied for the day and descended to the Great Hall to the aroma of porridge and eggs and bacon; slumping into a seat at the end of the table Iris glowered at the bowl in front of her darkly as she added cinnamon and sugar to the oatmeal.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Draco drawled as he descended upon the table and sat across from her and filled a plate with eggs and bacon while Blaise sat down besides the blonde; Daphne straggled in a few moments later to join the group at Gryffindor table.

Hermione replied from behind _Voyages with Vampires, _"She was having nightmares, kept me up half the night with all her tossing and turning." The raven haired girl shot her brunette friend a scathing look to no effect since she never looked up from her book despite the fact that her head should have been aflame.

Before Iris could make a cutting remark a thunderous rumble filled the air as hundreds of pinions beat at the air over head, dropping parcels and letters before students though somewhere down the table Lavender Brown gave a startled yelp as Errol landed in her food and splashed chilled milk all over her. That actually brought a small smile of pleasure to her lips though she winced at the red envelope that was tied to the bird's leg.

"Oye, look at that! Weasley's got himself a Howler!" Seamus Finnegan's voice cut through the chatter of the hall like a knife and the boy in question paled considerably, a stark contrast from his usual blush. Even Neville looked taken aback and he muttered something reassuringly to his best friend while the rest of his entourage looked at Ron with a mixture of pity, restrained glee, and consternation as they cleaned themselves up.

As Ron reached for envelope and thumbed the wax seal, Iris muttered a Silencing Charm and covered her ears quickly to preserve her hearing and stave off the grating yells that quickly filled the hall and caused the glass vessels in the room to vibrate and the silverware to clatter. Her friends were quick to cover their ears but from the way they were cringing it was evident that it did little to muffle the raucous eardrum shattering noise.

It didn't take long for the Howler to conclude its message and then burst into flame, the envelope and letter curling and browning in the heat before nothing was left but a pile of ash and scorch marks on the table. The boy that had gotten such a severe tongue lashing was visibly trembling in terror as Neville assisted him from his seat and escorted him from the hall as conversation steadily returned to the Hall.

Iris spared a glance at the High Table as she lowered her spelled hands and shook out the charm; most of the teachers were looking on in shock and surprise but not Professor Riddle. He had a smirk on his face as he watched the two boys leave the room and there was a look of cruel satisfaction in his eyes.

But as he shifted his gaze from the boys to her, she saw the hard planes of his face soften for a moment as he gave her a nod in acknowledgment before his face became an impassive mask of boredom and he turned his attention to Professor McGonagall who was making some comment on the situation as the bell began to ring, signaling that classes would begin shortly.

Iris knew that the first thing they had today was a double block of Herbology with the Hufflepuffs so she bid farewell to her Slytherin companions, wished Liatris good luck in her classes and then walked out on the lush green lawns with Hermione in tow.

The day was grey and cloudy but for all that gloom, the day was cool and a gentle breeze was pulling at the loose strands of her hair and making them dance merrily. Closing her eyes so that she was seeing through the barest of slits, the raven haired girl let the wind wash over her and slide through her fingers as she walked, breathing deeply the smells of summer grass and the cool air coming of the lake.

For the first time all morning she felt her ire receding under the phantom ministrations and she was actually beginning to relax a bit when she was passed up by Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil and the squealed in delight as they saw Gilderoy Lockhart striding across the fields besides Professor Sprout, who was laden with bandages and looking mildly disheveled besides her usual earth stained clothing.

In the distance you could see the Whomping Willow that had been crashed into and that it was now wreathed in white slings for its injured branches, but the celebrity teacher was impeccable in his silken turquoise robes with their thread of gold trim and not a single hair out of place as he smiled at the students standing in front of greenhouse three.

"Ah, good day children; you're probably wondering what I'm doing out here with Professor Sprout; as it turns out I was giving her a few tips on seeing to the injuries of a Whomping Willow. I've come across a few of these rare trees in my travels you see." The man said with an offhanded air as he looked over his 'audience.'

Professor Sprout seemed as disillusioned of the man as Iris herself was as she cast the man a murderous look and drew a key from under her robes, "Alright then students, let's get you all inside." She said as the students parted before her and she unlocked the greenhouse door while the second year girls were staring appreciatively at the handsome man in their midst and offering him smatterings of compliments that he received graciously.

When the door finally swung open and the students shuffled in (some more reluctantly than others) he called lunged forward quickly and seized Neville by the shoulder, "Ah, Professor Sprout; you won't mind if I borrow Mister Longbottom here for a few moments, will you?" He asked with another one of his too bright smiles.

The herbology instructor glowered at the man as she certainly did mind but he took her silence as acceptance and nodded to the woman as he dragged the boy off for a private word while she let the door swing closed behind her.

"I have a mind to teach him something about nursing an injury…" The stout woman muttered under her breath but loudly enough for Iris to hear and she gave a nod of agreement, Sprout seemed mildly startled that the girl had heard her but considering the girl's reaction she shared a conspiratorial wink as she organized the trays of earmuffs at the front of the room.

As the class settled down around their trays, the door opened and Neville came into the room looking thoughtful; considering that Lockhart had just finished giving the boy a lecture on managing his fame to cultivate greater glory the boy had taken the lesson to heart.

"All right then class, today we will be repotting mandrakes. Can anyone tell me a little bit about them?" Professor Sprout asked the class after Neville had gotten into position and everyone had settled down.

Of course, by the time the question was halfway spoken Hermione's hand was in the air though it seemed she had learned a bit from last year as it didn't rocket into the air so quickly that her clavicle would bend under the force of keeping the shoulder in its socket.

With a nod of acknowledgement from the professor Hermione gave the textbook response, "The mandrake or mandragora is a key ingredient in several potions used to restore an individual who has been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Indeed Miss Granger, take ten points for Gryffindor. Anyone care to add anything else?" Sprout inquired after giving the brunette a fond smile and pointed to Iris as she raised her hand from her position next to her best friend.

"The mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it Professor, juvenile mandragora can't kill with their cry but hearing one can still render a person unconscious for several hours." The raven haired girl said confidently, and the salt and pepper haired woman nodded affirmatively.

"Spot on Miss Potter, take another ten points for Gryffindor. As our resident geniuses have informed us, the mandrake is used for a variety of potions and they can be rather dangerous to handle in their adult forms but have no fear, we're quite safe. As I said before, we're going to be repotting these juveniles today so don your earmuffs and watch me carefully." Professor Sprout said with a warm smile as she complimented the Second Year girls and motioned to the earmuffs arranged in front of everyone.

As Iris slipped hers over her ears, a very cruel idea sprung up in her mind and like any good Marauder she quickly began to flush out the details as the instructor reached for the shoot of leaves coming from the pot in front of her and gripped it by the base. With a firm tug she pulled the plant straight up and revealed a mottled red and purple baby writhing under her clenched fist and shrieking inconsolably.

She placed it in a larger pot to her left and quickly buried it beneath fresh soil and fertilizer until naught was seen but the leaves once more. Sprout removed her earmuffs and gestured for the students to do so as well, "Now that you've seen me do it, go ahead and gather in groups of four to a tray; you'll find plenty of dirt and dung over in those bags on the side and empty pots behind me up here."

The students quickly divided among one another, Hermione and Iris settled at a table together and soon found themselves joined by Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan, the two Hufflepuff boys introduced themselves cordially and were complimenting the girls on their scores and feats from the previous year before all conversation ceased as everyone had to put back on their earmuffs.

Or almost everyone, as Neville was putting his on Iris sent a silent Sticking Charm at his hand and headgear, as he tried to draw his hand back down the flap over his ear was pulled away as it was stuck to his glove and since Sprout had given the thumbs up to begin, several mandragora were uprooted and the Boy Who Lived was hit by their cries.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed boneless in a heap, of course that sent Sprout bustling over but a quick Finite Incantem revealed only that he had pulled the covering off his ear as though to adjust it and gotten an earful for it.

After that little prank, Iris was feeling much better as she left the greenhouse arm in arm with Hermione as they made their way back to the castle leaving behind a score of repotted mandrakes and one boy wizard who was sleeping off the after effects of the mandrake cries in the infirmary.

The Gryffindor students returned to their tower to freshen up and change as needed after a long morning in the greenhouse wrestling babe like plants that neither liked being uprooted or being repotted, and then the class made way for Transfiguration.

As expected, they were assigned the task of turning beetles into buttons which only became difficult for Iris when the beetle decided that it was a better idea to scurry away or try to take wing but she considered it practice and used the opportunity to rebuild her aim.

By the time class ended and the Gryffindors were dismissed for lunch, Iris and Hermione had made a fistful of buttons each and taken a few more points for their House and while their success wasn't being trounced upon by their fellows it likewise hadn't endeared them to anyone over much for performing better than the rest.

Especially in Ron's case, his mood had blackened throughout the door; first the Howler, then his best friend was laid up, and Transfiguration had proven that his inherited wand was well and truly broken. The spell-o-tape binding had done nothing but hold the wood together, which didn't do much to improve the conductivity of the spells, instead he had gotten spouts of sparks, a considerable amount of angry hissing sounds, and at one point a crack that had startled Lavender Brown and caused her to squish her beetle.

As Iris slipped into the Great Hall the first thing she noticed was Neville Longbottom sitting at the table surrounded by his courtiers, Ginny Weasley seated beside him and the redhead was following the older witch with her eyes as she settled at the far end of the table with Hermione and was soon joined by her younger sister and her Slytherin companions.

Iris held the younger girl's gaze and adopted Riddle's bored aloofness until the Weasley turned away and resumed her unctuous adoration of Longbottom. Liatris followed her gaze and sighed to herself as she caught who her sister had been staring down.

"It's rather sad to see her like that; I think I could actually like that girl if she wasn't so blind about her hero. She's positively enraptured by the boy's legend and can't see through it to the truth under the pretty words." The auburn haired witch muttered as she poached a sausage off a serving plate with her fork and took a bite of the seasoned pork.

"I'd rather not talk about him or her at the moment; I'd much prefer to keep my appetite." Iris replied as she bit into her own sausage and worried the juicy morsel to get the onion and garlic flavoring before swallowing. The Hogwarts house elves knew how to cook, she would have to see about procuring one of them for herself when she graduated.

The Potter's didn't have any house elves themselves, the manor they were living in was small enough that some hearth magic was all it took to keep it tidy and now that the girls were at school, there was even less cleaning up to do. Lily just aired out the rooms every once in a while to keep the rooms from sitting too long in stale air.

"In that case, who do you guys have next?" Daphne asked as she sipped iced tea to chase down the salad she was eating, her sapphire eyes running over the High Table as she looked for the likely teacher. Several of the chairs were empty as instructors were taking their meals in their offices or foregoing the food altogether as they planned their lessons.

"We have DADA next," Hermione said as she pulled out her schedule and read over the timetable, Iris pushed away her plate and let her forehead thump softly against the cool wood of the table and groaned in dismay much to the amusement of Draco and Blaise.

The platinum blonde reached across the table and plucked the parchment from the brunette's hand and swept his eyes across the listings before the girl had time to snatch it back. "Why are all of your Defense lessons surrounded in little hearts?" He asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his lips as the girl flushed brightly.

Lunch passed too quickly for Iris' taste and she had to ascend the Grand Staircase to attend the Defense course, just stepping into the classroom was painful. Professor Riddle had always kept a clean room, tidy and uncluttered and half the time the desks were stacked on either side of the room to leave space for practical wand work.

Today the room was covered with moving photographs and portraits, the subject of each being none other the Gilderoy Lockhart. Everywhere you looked there was a smiling face looking down at you framed by shining golden locks, no smile more radiant than the one on the author's face as he stood at the front of the class with his hands behind his back and his flashy robes shimmering in the light.

Sitting behind his large desk was Professor Riddle, as usual he was wearing his tailored white shirt and his fitted black trousers with his leather shoes kicked up on the edge of the table as he reclined into his seat, the front two legs of the chair hanging in the air as he rocked slowly back and forth. He held a book open in his hands and was reading and apparently tuning out the other man who was going on about how his own books were far more enjoyable and educating than some dusty old tome.

"Gilderoy, as fascinating as you think your books are I don't care to waste my time." Riddle replied as he turned the page of parchment in the old leather bound book and slipped the red ribbon of a bookmark to mark his place before he closed the book and slipped it into a desk drawer. Tapping the desk with his wand, you could hear the quiet click as a lock snapped into place.

Iris watched the action silently but curiously as she took her seat at the front of the class, directly in front of the desk with Riddle and quirked an eyebrow as she jerked her chin at the other man minutely. The man ran a hand through his long jet black hair and shrugged nonchalantly as the rest of the Gryffindors took their seats.

To those with acute hearing and the ability to pick out voices in a throng of people, one could hear light chatter from the back of the room between Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil as they were commented on the pair of instructors at the head of the room.

No two men could be so totally different from one another, Tom Riddle in his simple elegance was graceful and smooth; his thick coal black hair reaching down to his shoulders and tied back into a neat tail at the nape of his neck with his tanned skin and hard planes of his face. Piercing obsidian eyes flecked with crimson garnets that could cut through to the quick of the matter and seemingly read your soul.

Gilderoy Lockhart was a different beast all together; ostentatious and gaudy, he made sure that he was the focus of the room with his loud garb and accessories. His hair shone like spun bronze and while shaggy was tastefully combed and fastidiously maintained and made him look sophisticated. His fair skin was smooth and soft to the touch, his face aglow with his boyish good looks and his bright blue eyes that made him look innocent and harmless.

Most of the class began to pull out their textbooks and set them on the wooden surfaces of their desks whereas the raven haired girl simply pulled out her one textbook and set it down, along with her notebook for taking notes in class.

"I see that you're missing a few books there, Miss…?" Lockhart inquired as he noticed the absence of his books from her desk and approached her, standing across from her desk she was forced to look up into his forget-me-not blue eyes to make eye contact.

"Potter, sir. Iris Potter and no, I'm not missing any books sir." Iris replied with cool dignity as she crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair to fix the older man with a confident stare while Hermione looked shock and the other students were a mix of satisfaction and outrage at seeing the girl respond with her haughty attitude.

Riddle smirked at the confident display and cleared his throat to focus the attention of the class on him while Lockhart frowned and stepped away from the Seeker, "As you can see class, I've had the fortune of being given an Assistant Professor to help me with my obligations for preparing you. Allow me to introduce to yo-"

"No need Professor Riddle, I'm sure they're aware of who I am; Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award." The man interrupted to introduce himself with that toothy and too bright smile of his that caused the girl's in the class to swoon quietly, save for Iris who snorted at Lavender Brown's exaggerated dreamy sigh.

"Yes, obviously…" Riddle muttered as he rose from his chair and walked in front of his desk, leaning back on the dark stained wood he perched himself on the edge, "Well then, _Assistant Professor _Lockhart; do you have any ideas for how to start of the class today?" Riddle asked as he emphasized the man's title with a small smirk of derision playing on his features at the jape.

Gilderoy either didn't notice or pointedly ignored it, Iris was betting on the former since the man was entirely too narcissistic to let a slight go unanswered. "Indeed, how about a quiz on their reading? See how much information they've absorbed from my writings, eh?" he replied smoothly as he strode through the central aisle of the class and stopped beside Lavender's desk where she gave the man an apple.

He gave her one of his roguish smiles as he plucked the fruit from her hand and shined it on his sleeve before biting into the crisp red flesh. Riddle nodded his head at the suggestion, "An excellent idea, but I believe you'll recall that my classes are a tad more practical. I'm sure you could think of something more appropriate then a quiz about you."

Lockhart looked mildly injured that Riddle had overridden the self serving assessment that he would have given out and some of the students seemed bummed as well that they wouldn't get the chance to show off their knowledge on him. But the blonde man recovered quickly and he plastered a warm smile on his face, "Quite right, I think I have just the thing as well but I must warn these students that with me as a teacher they will face some of their darkest fears and the foulest things on the planet!"

The students tensed at his words and held their breath as Lockhart reached into a storage closet off the room and brought in a large object hidden under a thin sheet, as he set it on the table one could hear bird like chirps and the gnashing of teeth as the object shuddered under the cloth and emitted metallic thuds.

Iris wasn't fazed in the least and when he whipped off the sheet over the large birdcage to reveal a horde of Cornish pixies, the class let out a collective breath and some of them even chuckled. "You might think they're funny now but these are some tricky little blighters. Let's see how you handle them!"

Opening the cage door before Riddle could get in a word or countermand him, the pixies took to the air and the classroom dissolved into chaos as the dozens of electric blue creatures zipped about the room sowing mayhem. Books were knocked over and tossed through the air, pictures were being ripped from the walls, and a window was smashed open in the back of the room to rain glass down upon the students.

Neville found himself snatched by the ears and dragged up to be hung on the chandelier painful, yowling the entire time as he tried to swat away the pixies to little avail as one latched onto his hand and bit his fingers with its needle like teeth.

"Come on then, round them up! Round them up!" Lockhart encouraged with a smile though there was an edge of panic to his voice and the whites of his eyes were easily visible whereas Riddle was looking about his classroom with barely restrained fury.

A creeping cold filled the air of the room as his ire built and the pixies paused in their flitting about the room to look at the Defense teacher worriedly, feeling fear for themselves for the first time but that fear fled as Lockhart took the opportunity to draw his wand and bellow, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

The spell had absolutely no effect and that encouraged the creatures to further action as they swooped down and seized his wand before chucking it out the broken window. Lockhart visibly swallowed and began to edge backwards as he tried to keep his composure in front of the students and the other Professor but before long he was crouching behind Riddle's desk.

The situation had evolved well beyond his control and with the celebrity unable to restore order the students began to panic and flee the room leaving their books to be torn apart and flung about the room until the only people left in the room were the instructors, Hermione crouched under her desk and fending off her assailants, Neville hanging from the chandelier and swinging at the pixies as they danced before him mockingly, and Ron who had backed himself into a corner and was swiping at the creatures with a text book.

Iris sat in her seat quietly watching the goings on placidly from the eye of the storm as the pixies gave her a certain berth and would at times flit in front of her and stare at her before zooming off again but they didn't trouble her or her belongings.

That was the only thing that held Riddle back from action as the pixies shot around his head and fueled his ire because he was by nature curious. He wanted to know why was she sitting unaffected by all the mayhem. He watched as Iris smiled and held out her hand, palm up so that one of the pixies could land and she petted it on the head and stroked its iridescent wings while she crooned to it quietly.

"You've had your fun little one, fetch the rest and climb back in; I'll see that you're set loose soon." She said quietly to the pixie, who pouted grumpily but nodded in acceptance before letting out a chirp and taking to wing, the electric blue creatures seemed to sigh but flew back into the cage without further bidding and waited patiently behind the bars while she crossed the room and closed the door.

Riddle watched as she fixed him with a piercing stare from luminescent emerald eyes, resembling the all too familiar shade of Killing Curse green and he felt tightness in his throat as he saw the rivers of gold that were running through her eyes and pooling around the black of her pupil.

"Set the these creatures free Marvolo, they do not belong in a gilded cage." Iris spoke so quietly he almost couldn't hear her and knew that no one else would have heard her words besides him but there was an eldritch power behind the girl's developing mezzo soprano that sent a rush through his body and a pulse in his groin that forced him to ball his hand into a fist and squeeze tight enough that he could feel his nails puncture skin as he refused to let his body respond.

Instead, Riddle nodded his head to show that he would do as she wished, "It shall be done, but it's rude to use a Professor's name without leave, I'll see you for detention." He stated before she nodded her head in acceptance with a slight smile on her lips as she turned on her heel and stepped away.

She slipped her things into her bag and helped Hermione up from the floor and then she glided out of the room with her brunette friend following in tow, while she tossed furtive glances between the instructor and her friend.

Once the door closed behind them, the sound of cloth tearing filled the room and Neville landed heavily on top of one of the tables as the air was driven from his lungs, leaving him struggling for a moment before the flow of oxygen returned.

Lockhart rose from behind the desk and took one look at the ruined room before chancing a glance at the Defense instructor and swallowing heavily as Riddle fixed the man with a chilly stare, "Gilderoy… if you ever do something as stupid as this ever again… I'll murder you."

For all his prattle and showmanship, Gilderoy Lockhart was not a stupid man, inept maybe, but not stupid. He could tell the deathly real intent behind the threat and he would heed the warning while he devised a way to sap some of Riddle's stories and mayhap come across his next book.

Or better yet, once he had Iris Potter eating out of the palm of his hand he might be able to make some original stories of his own. She was a gifted witch to command so easily and powerful to have magical creatures as rebellious and destructive as pixies attend her wishes. Yes, she would make an exceptional apprentice; especially if he caught her while she was still young enough to mold.

He smiled at the idea even as Tom Riddle ushered him and any stragglers out of the room to repair it, while he was thinking along similar lines. 'I can make that child my apprentice, she's already my student; but when she's done learning… what happens?'

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**September 5, 1992**

The remainder of the week passed quickly for Iris and her friends, between their classes and getting back into the groove things quickly returned to the usual routine but it did little to lessen the nightly terrors that plagued her mind, nightmares that were not born from memory she knew. She had turned to the stars at night to Gaze as the centaurs do but for all that was written in the heavens, all she could see was a lion's paw, a snake's fang, and pain.

Her mood did not lighten through the week, between her restless nights and the blight that Neville had become it was all she could do to keep from murdering somebody. Neville had fallen back into his old ways, whatever progress he had made the previous year under Iris' hand his mother had undone and his court had only grown, and with the likes of Colin Creevey inflating his ego and Gilderoy Lockhart stroking it, the plump boy had become a nightmare himself.

What had also become apparent was the strife within Gryffindor; it had become common knowledge that Iris and Neville had bad blood between them though you wouldn't know it to look at the boy wonder who was still pursuing the rising Quidditch star fervently, much to the dismay of Ginny Weasley and Lavender Brown.

Those two girls had become fast friends it seemed and had taken it upon themselves to make her life as horrid as possible and of course Pansy Parkinson had made her presence known by the second day of class when Iris' school bag had been sliced cleanly through the bottom and dumped all of her belongings on the floor of the hallway before she and her pack of friends had made a show of kicking her things about and laughing all the while.

By the time Saturday rolled around, the raven haired girl was ready to slit someone's throat and when she was shaken awake an hour before dawn by a sleepy and disheveled Angelina Johnson for practice she had promised to gouge Oliver Wood's eyes out.

She still dutifully changed into her scarlet and gold robes and scribbled a hasty note to Hermione before she followed the chasers down to the common room with her broomstick over her shoulder and joined her teammates on their trek to the pitch. The entire length of the march out was accompanied by their captain's voice as he went on enthusiastically about his new training regimen, how they were going to train harder and longer to win the cup this year.

The Keeper was oblivious to the murderous stares of his teammates as they all peered at him through sleep glazed eyes and with bags under their eyes from being woken so early. When they finally got to the pitch, the stocky young man led them into their locker room and began to go over his new plays and strategies.

He had constructed three diagrams for his new plays that took an hour to go over all of them much to their lament; by the time he was done and ready to actually take to the air, the Weasley twins had fallen asleep and were leaning against one another for support Fred drooling into George's hair.

Oliver clapped his hands together and whirled on his team with a rallying cheer, "Alright team, let's go; we're wasting daylight!" The sudden shout after his droning playmaker startled George from his sleep and as he straightened up stiff as a board, Fred tumbled backwards of the bench with a scream of terror.

"Why are we doing this at the crack of dawn Wood? You could have explained this when we were awake last night, as it is I'm barely conscious enough to mount a broom let alone process three plays." Katie said as she fixed the boy with a venomous look but the effect was ruined by the bed tussled hair that she hadn't had the time to brush out and her finger combing had down little to help.

"Look here now! We lost that match to Ravenclaw last year when the cup should have been ours; so we're going to smash these poxy bastards this year like we should have! That means pushing ourselves beyond anything these other teams are going to be able to throw at us!" Wood rounded on the girl with fire in his eyes and they could all see that he had slipped into his fanatic state, when he got like this there was no point in arguing reasonably; he couldn't hear them past his dreams of grandeur.

With an aggrieved sigh, the Gryffindor team shuffled out of the locker room dragging their feet along the way and looking like they were marching out to stand before a firing squad. As soon as they stepped onto the dew covered pitch, Iris mounted her broom and kicked off the ground in the early grey light in time to watch the fiery red orb that was the sun climb up over the edge of the horizon and turned the sky the color of vermillion and plum.

The morning air was wet and humid still as tendrils of fog clung to the ground but it felt good to have the air whipping through her ebon hair and making it dance about her head as she shot up into the sky and then raced the twins around the pitch, the thrill of soaring through the air at breakneck speeds was a far more invigorating wakeup then anything that Wood could have done (except for maybe bringing them some fresh coffee from the kitchens).

But her wanton flight was interrupted by a sudden flash of light that prompted Iris to pull-up sharply and loop in the air while she flicked her wand to hand and leveled it at Colin Creevey on reflex. Her nerves were frayed from her sleepless nights and dreams of conflict; as such her instincts were set on a hair trigger.

The boy looked ready to soil himself by the way his mouth was hanging open in shocked surprise and how the color had drained from his face. Seated beside the boy were the rest of Longbottom's entourage and the boy himself, smirking up at her from his seat in the stands. Oliver was quick to fly up alongside her and see what the trouble was all about.

"Don't fret yourself Wood, we're Gryffindors too y'know? We're not like to divulge any secrets that might lose us the cup. Besides, you've got bigger problems than few fans watching the team practice." The boy said cockily as he jerked his chin down to the pitch below and the seven figures approached, swaddled in bottle green robes and trimmed in silver.

Wood cursed under his breath and flew off to deal with that issue while Iris slid her wand back into the holster at her forearm. "What are you doing here Longbottom?" Iris asked the boy sharply as she hovered in front of him, her shaded goggles hiding her eyes from him but not able to mask the ire in her voice. "I don't like being spied on."

"Why Iris, there are plenty of people here to see; what makes you think I'm here to spy on you at all? Surely you aren't so egotistical to believe that you're the only person worth watching, are you?" Neville put back at her with a friendly smile as he stood up and leaned forward against the railing that served to pen the spectators in.

Iris was taken aback; the boy had maneuvered her skillfully into the jaws of a trap for no matter how she responded she was in a position of disadvantage. "The team has plenty of talented players, so if not me; then who are here to watch? The twins are comely enough, but I don't think they're quite your type."

"I suppose they aren't at that, a pity; but no matter I will just have to content myself with their dear sister and Ron seems to like me well enough." Neville replied smoothly, looking completely unfettered as he looped an arm around Ginny's shoulders beside him, revealing a thick gold bracelet wrapped around his right wrist.

The girl blushed furiously at the boy's forwardness but she smiled as well and gave Iris a superior stare and mirrored the boy's smirk as she fingered the bracelet; Ron himself was looking at the byplay with a look that said he was plainly conflicted. Iris had treated him well and even tutored him the previous year but Neville was his closest friend in his year, he was being forced into a tough position and being made to take a side.

"But in all honesty, I was here to spy a bit; I do recall that Gryffindor lost last year because we were down a Seeker since your reserve was hardly a fitting player. Cho Chang caught the snitch before we could stack up a one sixty point lead; so I was concerned that after the… incident, last year that you might not be the same player. I worried needlessly it seems, you're still the pride of the team and you still fly beautifully." Neville replied as he winked at her with his compliment, the whole conversation was suave and might have even been flirtatious if it wasn't a chubby egomaniac saying it.

"Oye Iris, things are getting nasty down below; you're the only one of us who can really stand the Slytherins, Wood might need your help." Katie said as she pulled up alongside the Seeker and gave a look at the assembled students in the stands with a frown on her face, she was just as wary about being watched as the raven haired girl.

Nodding her head, Iris turned her broom around and floated down to stand alongside her captain just as he was finishing reading the note that had been handed to him by the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint; a troll like boy who was more brawn than brain and had a perpetual sneer on his blocky face that did nothing to heighten his appeal as he displayed his crooked yellow teeth.

"You're training a new Seeker? Who? You haven't even held any tryouts!" Wood demanded angrily as he crumpled the parchment in his hand and glared at the Slytherin team parted ranks and let a familiar platinum blonde boy through with his sleekly polished new broom, lacquered in black with silver lettering stenciled along the shaft.

"Malfoy! You picked him to be your new Seeker?" George asked incredulously as he stared wide eyed at the pureblood heir.

Draco himself looked rather smug with himself and he looked at Iris with a cocked eyebrow, a flicker of trepidation in his eye as he met his friend and 'cousin's' gaze. Of course, Iris had predicted this; the same thing had happened to Harry after all, but this time the boy wasn't her enemy. She eyed the boy over and remembered all the pickup games they had had together at the Potter estate.

She nodded thoughtfully and then looked at his broom and the others like it that were clutched in the hands of the other Slytherin players as the leered openly at the Gryffindor females, the Chasers look absolutely revolted as they felt those hormone driven eyes crawling over their skin and undressing them. Even Iris in her blooming development was the object of some of the stares, that was a disturbing realization but she put it out of her mind quickly as she looked up at her captain.

"Oliver, I've played against Draco before; he's not half bad but look at their brooms." Iris stated as she gestured at the objects in question with a sweeping hand that encompassed all of the players.

Her words caught the attention of her teammates as well as the attention of the onlookers that had descended from the stands and gathered to the side. A few other faces had gathered amongst them as well, Hermione and Liatris were pushing to the forefront of the group with pieces of toast in hand while Daphne and Blaise followed in their wake, the Italian had a covered plate in hand and piece of toast sticking out from behind semi-parted lips.

"They're a gift from Draco's father, he said only the best would do for the Slytherin team; the new Nimbus. They just came out last month and they're a fair sight better than the Two Thousand not to say anything about those Cleansweeps." Flint said with a contemptuous sneer as he pointed at the twin's brooms.

Hermione had spent some time with the Pooter family over the summer so she knew just how good Draco was but she couldn't but jest as she stepped forward and looked at the platinum blonde with a playful smirk, "Well, at least they didn't have to buy their way in, they all got in on pure talent."

Draco smirked back at the girl but before he could come up with some witty remark he was overridden by Montague as the bulky Chaser pushed past and pointed at the brunette with a thick finger, "Shut it mudblood! No one asked for your opinion!" The player got out with a deep, gravelly voice that might as well have been a slap based on the way that Hermione recoiled.

The Gryffindors in attendance of course were instantly riled up by the foul epithet and before Iris could even begin to get things under control, Ron stepped up from beside Neville and brandished his wand; "You'll pay for that; eat slugs!" whipping it forward and jabbing it towards Montague there was the sound of sizzling and flash of light that came out from the wrong end of the wand and blasted him in the chest.

The redhead was launched backwards towards the entourage and struggled to all four while the assembled people stilled into silence while the boy turned a sickly shade of green and with a belch a large fat slug tumbled from his mouth and onto the pitch. Like a switch, the Slytherin team began to laugh raucously save for Draco was glaring at the back of Montague's head while Ron's brothers and sister gathered him up.

"Take him to Hagrid's hut, it's closer than the school!" Neville called as he followed behind the twins with Ginny at his side as the hurried across the vibrant green lawns of the school. The atmosphere was still charged and tense with hostility, violence could break at any moment and that wasn't something she wanted to stick around to see.

"Come on Wood, they have the pitch; best for us to move on before someone does something really stupid." Iris urged the older student as she looked at Neville's leaderless entourage, specifically at the two boys that had challenged Draco and Blaise the previous year.

The Gryffindor Keeper nodded his head in agreement as he looked at how things were going and quickly took the situation in hand, dispersing the students back to the castle and dismissing the remainder of the Quidditch team while the Slytherins headed for their locker room. Draco looked at Hermione apologetically and resignedly trailed after the rest of his teammates, no doubt regretting his decision to join the team now.

Gathering her friends, Iris led them back to the castle though her mood had soured considerably since the exhilaration of flying and no one really had much they wanted to say though Blaise handed her the covered plate with a still hot breakfast of eggs and hash browns.

The gesture was welcome and she tucked in gluttonously, eating and walking at the same time but it did little to get her mind off the incident, Hermione was brooding sulkily with Liatris standing by her side and comforting her with soft words and her presence.

The younger girl was good at that, she knew just what to say and by the time they were back in the Entrance Hall of the castle the brunette was smiling and laughing at the girl's playful mimicry as she threw her voice perfectly in imitation of Professor Snape as she mock scolded the girl for letting some daft school boys get her down.

No sooner had they entered the cool hall of the school than Professor Riddle was emerging from the dungeons, when his eyes settled on the group entering the hall he made for them and crooked his finger at Iris, "Miss Potter, I trust you haven't forgotten your detention; my office, seven o'clock tonight."

"Of course not Professor, I'll be there." Iris said as she met the older man's eyes unflinchingly while she stepped away from her friends and sibling, handing off the empty plate to Blaise. "Anything I'll be doing in particular?"

"You'll be copying histories, bring a quill and plenty of parchment." He replied curtly before dismissing her with a wave of his hands and followed the party as they ascended the grand staircase so Iris could change into more comfortable clothing. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back like a heavy cloak and she smiled a little to herself knowing that his undivided attention was on her at the moment.

She looked over her shoulder just as the staircase was curving away to break the line of sight to meet the intensity of his gaze, but her eyes did not land upon obsidian but a merry blue; where the Headmaster came from she could not say but he was watching her closely over the shoulder of the Deputy Headmaster.

As their eyes met, he gave her a cordial smile and a nod of his head but for all his civility the scrutiny he gave her was unwelcome and as he thumbed the ring on his finger she shuddered slightly at the way he caressed the ruby; it felt almost personal with him watching her the way he was.

Taking the steps two at a time, Iris put as much distance between herself and the man as possible at the moment but even as she got to the portrait of the Fat Lady after dropping Blaise and Daphne off at the library, she couldn't shake the feeling of a phantom hand running the length of her spine and she silently cursed her nerves for being so on edge.

* * *

><p>By seven thirty Iris slipped out of Gryffindor tower and made her way to the dungeons of Hogwarts, curfew was not until nine o'clock so she went unchallenged through the carved stone hallways in the bowels of the castle where she could feel the oppressive weight of a millennia's worth of history and ancient rock hanging over her head.<p>

There was no fear of the stone coming down but in the silence of the catacombs it was easy to remember that old castles had old memories and in a place where ghosts could talk it wasn't a large stretch of the imagination that stone could remember and just maybe tell a few stories.

The thought sent goose bumps up and down her arms but that wasn't enough to send her running for the relative safety of Professor Riddle's office, she wasn't some frightened little girl after all. She moved stately along, at her own pace and let her fingertips trace along the roughhewn walls; feeling the cool dampness as she brushed past a section of wall that ran along the lake, telling her she was near the Slytherin common rooms.

But the rock smoothed suddenly under her fingers and she paused, she turned her head curiously to inspect the wall for closely. To the touch, the wall was a flawless plane; like glass or polished crystal, and it was chillingly cold, icy and frozen. But to the eye, the wall was rough and jagged, no different than the slab beside it or the one beside that one.

It was a curious contradiction of the senses and it piqued her interest, so Iris ran her hands along the crystal smooth surface until she had defined the edges as best she could; wider than her arm span and taller than she could reach but seamless save for a single divot in the middle of the expanse that when she explored with her hand pricked her finger.

Recoiling back from the wall, Iris looked at the offended digit and the drop of blood at the tip of her middle finger that beaded up and dripped to the floor. She watched as the crimson splashed and scattered red droplets, and how each droplet began to inch across the floor as though alive until they had pooled at the base of the wall and began to climb.

With wide eyes, she stepped backwards until her back was resting against the opposite wall and she watched enthralled as the droplets reached the center and reformed into a single perfect drop before it seeped into the wall.

Silence hung thick in the corridor but Iris could feel _something _had stirred, old and profound enough that that castle shuddered and dust rained from the ceiling as it was shaken off; and then came the faintest of screams. As Iris slipped into the familiar state of Gazing and the world of Magic sprung up before her eyes the wall was no longer a wall but a giant window and on the other side was a hundred faces staring back at her and screaming in agony.

From that sea of anguish a single body rose up, serene and peaceful; slightly plump with a thick mane of red hair and the gentlest brown eyes. "I see you child, and you shall be judged." The woman said with a quiet sadness as she smiled solemnly at Iris before she faded from view and took the faces of the tortured with her until Iris was left standing and staring at her reflection in the window that no one else could see.

"Potter! There you are! I've been waiting for you for nearly an hour!" Professor Riddle's voice cut through the girl's shocked stupor and she turned to him as the light of magic died in her eyes, whatever he saw on her face spurred the man into action since he hurried to her side and gently cupped her chin in one hand while his fingers splayed across her cheek.

He hissed in surprise, "You're cold as a corpse girl!" he exclaimed softly and she shivered at the image considering what she had just seen, the reaction was not lost on the professor as he whipped off his robes and draped them over Iris' shoulders as he lifted the girl into his arms as though she were as light as a feather.

Normally, she would have thrown a small fit at being carried off like this but she was trembling violently now and her breath was coming out in puffs as the sheer frigidness settled over her and she realized just how cold she actually was. So instead she leaned as close as she could into Riddle's chest and began rubbing her chest to warm herself up.

Riddle hissed the password to the entrance of his private study and carried her through the threshold while the portal sealed itself behind him, he lowered her onto one of the couches by the fireplace and settled a thick blanket over her before drawing his wand and flicking it at the dry wood that was resting in the grate, igniting them and filling the room with dancing shadows as the fire leapt about.

"_What hasss happened to the young ssspeaker?" _Nagini hissed as she was roused by the sudden activity and she slithered across the room and up onto the couch that Iris was sitting in trembling as she tried to get warm, the serpent being cold blooded didn't approach too closely as even she could feel the chill coming from the girl.

"_I saw a woman in a stone window surrounded by screaming people, she told me that she saw me, that I would be… judged." _Iris hissed quietly but somehow her voice sliced through the crackling of the seasoned wood and hung in the air like the kneeling of some death bell, she had a harrowed look about her face as she looked at her Defense instructor.

A sinking feeling wound through her gut at the look on the man's face, because as good as he was at hiding his emotions and thoughts behind his mask; he was quite plainly afraid now. But it wasn't a look of fear for himself, by the way the cords in his neck were sticking out and the way the frown on his face was set she knew he was concerned. He was afraid for her and that was enough to send a lance of terror through her until she wrenched her gaze away from him and stared at the fire instead.

'I'm not some scared little girl, I'm the Champion of Hecate; I have the soul of a hero in me and all his memories! I will not let some woman frighten me as though I were some little helpless mouse!' Iris thought to herself furiously as she took all that fear in her and quashed it down as she schooled herself and turned her attention back to the Deputy Headmaster.

"You called me here for detention sir; I would like to serve it now if you'll forgive my tardiness." The raven haired girl said to him in a voice that was the definition of calm composure, she had gone from a young schoolgirl to tempered steel in the space of a few heartbeats. Riddle questioned why he was even surprised by it at all, Iris Potter was a force of nature the likes of which he had never encountered before; she had proven that once with the pixies and before by taking out the troll the previous year.

"Are you certain Miss Potter? Under the circumstances, I believe we can reschedule and perhaps get you checked out by Madam Pomfrey." Riddle asked her as he took a step forward to join her on the couch but thought better of it and made for the one on the other side of the coffee table instead; as he sat down he missed the flicker of a pained expression on the girl's face before it was gone.

"Positive professor, I feel fine and no doubt what I saw was just a trick of my mind; I haven't been sleeping well lately." Iris insisted but she didn't removed the blanket from her shoulders that smelled like mint and vanilla, nor did she doubt for a minute the authenticity of what had happened as she ran a thumb against the pad of her middle finger and felt the crust of a scab that was already forming.

Tom Riddle leaned back in his seat for a moment as he studied the girl across from him as he ran a hand through his long black hair, behind the cool serenity that had become his habitual face the wizard was warring with himself to validate her vision, to tell her everything that she would have to face and that she would be fine. But if he did that she would remain at the mercy of the Headmaster, and he could not abide his apprentice serving two masters.

"Very well then, I believe we can do away with the copying at the very least; I'll have to be content with you being bored out of your mind instead." Riddle stated at last as he rose from his seat and crossed the width of the room to one of the stacks of books and pulled out a thick tome of heraldry and history of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Great Britain and Ireland.

"I will say this though; at Hogwarts we do not believe in punishments that serve no purpose other than to be punitive. Everything is done for the betterment of the student and the school, remember that." Riddle said as he set the book down in her lap and gave the girl a meaningful look before he back off and walked over to his desk.

For her part, Iris just nodded her head and cracked open the old book and began to read; Riddle was not far wrong, the historian that had written the accounts of the old families was anything if prone to embellishment which made it very dry reading for the most part but what he lacked in storytelling he made up for in detail.

Thorough genealogies and family trees that were skillfully illustrated, shields and the coat of arms of each House were done in vivid detail; the method by which each family was raised into a position of power and who had sworn fealty to whom. He even described the means by which the families held their vassals' loyalty despite how various generations produced heirs that were especially cruel or vicious and Iris wondered how she might fashion a Ring of Obedience for Neville, it would certainly ease her headaches a bit.

The author described how the Ring of Obedience was forged from the blood of the vassal and how it bound anyone descendent from the bloodline after the initial subject to the person who held the device. The one bound by the ring would be made to carry out any wish of the wearer so long as the command was issued through the ring itself, even if the bound would otherwise never do it; there was an entry in which a member of the House Black forced a Hinric Goyle to slay his only son and heir because the boy had attempted to wed into the Black line through the youngest daughter in a secret ceremony.

Further, the wielder of the Ring could punish those bound to the device with various levels of pain; described as being as simple as a twisting of an ear to a pain that made the Cruciatus Curse pale in comparison. Lastly, it mentioned how those bound to the ring could in no way attempt to hurt the bearer of the ring; any attempt would elicit a crippling pain, so if the bound attempted to cast a spell their arm would spasm until the thought was perished from the person's mind.

The more she read, the more revolted Iris felt; it was a tool of enslavement that the families had created and after the inception of the Wizard's Council all such devices were destroyed and the creation of any such device was declared an offense punishable by having the magic stripped from the creator and imprisonment in Azkaban.

The punishment seemed light to Iris, after all the Muggles got along fine without magic but to someone who had lived their entire life believing they were superior to those without it then maybe being brought low was a more grievous punishment but life in Azkaban was truly a punishment worse than death.

By one o'clock in the morning Iris had only read through half of the book but her eyes were strained and she had read the same page a half dozen times without picking up anything from it so she slipped the bookmark in place and closed the heavy tome with a thump. The sound was the first thing that had been louder than the crackling of the fireplace that had burnt itself down into a bed of hot embers and the scratching of the quill in Riddle's hand as he marked papers.

Setting the book down on the coffee table, Iris slipped the blanket from her shoulders and rose from her seat to stretch her legs and rub the pins and needles from them as the blood returned to the muscles. The chill that had possessed her earlier had fled for the most part and a look at the grandfather clock that bisected the room she could tell the hour was exceptionally late… or early depending on your point of view.

Riddle looked up from the essay that he was reading when he heard the book shut and watched as Iris crossed the length of the room to perch on the edge of his desk, drawing the robes he had covered her with tighter as she did so. "Was your reading as interesting as mine?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as she swept an eye over the poor cursive that filled a foot of parchment.

"Doubtful, Marcus Flint's rhetoric is just as flat as Sir Alistair's but lacking any of the interesting details and intrigue of the games the nobility played. But from your word choice, I think you found your book at the very least informative if not overly entertaining." Riddle responded as he dabbed his quill on a piece of blank parchment before taking a small cloth from a drawer and cleaning the tip.

"Quite informative to be honest and more than a bit disturbing, his knowledge on the Ring of Obedience seemed rather intimate considering that his history was written at least a century after the use of them was outlawed. I don't think memories in a Pensieve would give him all of the information he wrote about." Iris stated as she glanced back at the book on the other side of the room with a look that was half curiosity and half trepidation at learning the answer.

"You'd be right, after his histories were penned some of the older generation of wizards who still remembered thought much the way you did and as the discovered he made a Ring for each of his children. They said that his children kept exceptionally tidy rooms for being seven and nine respectively but the fact that his daughter couldn't pick up a kitchen knife in his presence without her hand nearly shattering gave it away." Riddle said flatly as he leaned back in his seat and watched the girl's face for a reaction.

She grimaced as she heard the information but considering that the book was nearly two centuries old, there was probably no one left to feel pity for; instead she looked rather thoughtful for a moment before saying, "I can see where a Ring would be useful, it guarantees servitude and prevents the betrayal of the wearer since the bound cannot bring harm to the wearer directly or indirectly. An act of hostility faces excruciating pain and trying to share secrets means you swallow your own tongue; its perfect loyalty that even gets to look pretty on your hand."

Riddle nodded his head as he steepled his fingers under his chin and gave Iris an appraising look, he often forgot just how young she was since she was exceptionally mature for her age, more so than any student he had ever had before and she could rationalize objectively. That by itself was something most couldn't do, to look at a problem and remove themself from the equation.

"Perfect loyalty or a perfect slave depending on your point of view; either way it's a useful way to keep secrets, make sure who your friends really are, and turn your enemies into your champions." Riddle replied with his tightly held veneer of aloofness as he felt the rage boiling in his chest over what Dumbledore had done, he wanted desperately to just go into the man's office and tear his head from his shoulders but it was not yet time to do it.

He still needed to rebuild his army and he needed Grindelwald for that, the man had brought Europe to its knees and still had the funds and allies that they would need to bring down the British Ministry of Magic.

"But if you were an enemy and you wanted out, how would you go about breaking it? I can't imagine it would be easy." Iris asked as she mulled over the last point that Tom had mentioned, turning an enemy into a champion.

"The process is relatively simple, distance between the holder and the captive or keeping one end in a warded room, refusal of a command and a powerful magical attack against the device. But the whole process would be excruciatingly painful for the subject; some reports say that those who have broken a Ring were left broken as well." Riddle replied and with those words came his greatest anxiety, because the possibility existed that despite his carefully laid plans the prize at the end of the rainbow might be nothing more than a drooling husk.

And because of that he dared not tell Iris any of it, for if she discovered that she was the unwilling hand of Dumbledore her life would become nothing but pain because while she did not know it; she had the strength to turn him to ash as she surely as she had fried a fully grown mountain troll. Once she learned that truth, all she would know from then would be agony.

The danger she was in at that very moment by him even giving her the information was immense but her encounter with the Judge had forced his hand prematurely, she would need something to focus on and once she figured out that what the Headmaster was wearing was a Ring she would put herself on a mission to free the enthralled and so long as she stuck to the trail he would put her on, things would work out. He only prayed she would forgive him the cost.

Iris rose from her perch on the edge of his desk and thanked him for the interesting read before slipping out of his office to return to Gryffindor tower with a pass in his script tucked into the pocket of the robes she was still wearing. She knew that he would not begrudge her the theft of the Egyptian cotton robes as they comforted her although she made sure to take a path as far from the stone window as she could manage.

By the time she made it to her dormitory, she had just enough energy to change into her night gown before curling up under the covers of her bed with the curtains closed and falling to sleep with the scent of mint and vanilla.

Exhaustion had often given Harry the respite dreamless sleeps but it was not the case for Iris, instead she found herself floating in a sea of inky blackness punctured by a thousand pinpricks of brilliant light that she took for stars and the celestial ocean smelled like dittany and filled her with that peaceful serenity she had nearly forgotten.

"You've been silent for a while Hecate, I feared you had forgotten about me; but that's not true is it? I carry you with me where ever I go." Iris spoke to the empty blackness as she hung suspended in her dream as the Goddess of Magic seemed to form out of the shimmering iridescence of the starlight.

Midnight tresses spilling down her back in lazy ringlets and her three faced mask of the maiden, mother, and crone in the pale relief of milky white, broken only by the radiant golden eyes that seemed to drink up the light around the; always appearing as though they were looking out from some deep pool of darkness.

"Indeed child, and you have been letting me see the world as I have not done since last I had a Champion; I have met your Olivander and taken his measure just as I have done with your Professor Riddle. A curious man he is and I have wondered often and long what to do about him; he is so full of pain and rage that I worry he will drown in it but I grow less worried every time I see him." The goddess said, her voice like the chiming of bells in the air and the tinkling of crystal; indescribable in the wisdom it held and encompassing all the sorrow and joy of history.

It was the kind of voice that made you wonder if you should weep for having heard it or rejoice, Iris knew that her voice would never hold so much meaning in it but she had seen what the faintest echo if it could do when sounded through her; how the creatures of magic obeyed it and the thrill it sent through those who heard it.

"But you still haven't spoken to me in ages it seems, why is that?" Iris asked as the Goddess pulled her floating form into her lap and began to brush her hair out with her hands, hands that were soft and silken to the touch and the color of cream but also weathered by experience and hardship, powerful with knowledge.

"It is no fault of yours, my Champion, but mortals live such fleeting lives it is difficult for me to converse with you as we do; to focus on the seconds and minutes that you measure your life by when I measure my own moments by the century or millennia." Hecate explained softly as Iris relaxed into the embrace and the rhythm as she felt the fingers tug gently at her locks of ebony and feel the tangles and snarls come undone.

"But more importantly it is because you have done as I would have you do, why have a Champion that I must instruct at every crossroads? I chose you because I trust you to do as I would have you do without the benefit of my instruction and you must remember that I am incapable of directly intervening in the affairs of man. Much has been done in the names of deities, should my presence be known for a moment it will be remembered for millennia and when next I look upon my children I will find them at each other's throats for want of my guidance and direction."

The Goddess spoke with such solemnity and grief that it brought tears to Iris' eyes as she saw in the realms of her dreams the devastation that the ripples of such an encounter had wrought. Rivers ran with blood more assuredly in a holy war than in any other because it was not for resources that the battles were waged but for the sake of people's beliefs.

"That is the price for direct intervention isn't it? Death and war for centuries and millennia. But the price of a Champion, a powerful witch can change history just as easily and the cost might be as little as a decade of conflict." Iris said after Hecate had brushed the tears from her eyes and resumed her finger brushing.

"Yes Iris, the price of a Champion is only a fraction of the cost that would be incurred but it is still a grievous cost to make a change, so I prefer to be niggardly when it comes to the lives of my children." Hecate replied with a sad voice that the girl imagined had an accompanying sad smile under the mask, "Difficult months lie ahead of you, Harry fought for the life of another and his own; you will be fighting for freedom to live. I know you will do me proud young one but I'll remind you to polish and develop some of your skills, now rest easy. You have not had any and you need it."

The Goddess' voice was gentle and reassuring and she bent her head to press porcelain lips to Iris' brow as she always did and the young witch found herself dropping from the celestial lounge and into a quiet oblivion that swallowed her doubts and worries. She would sleep easily this nice she knew.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So another chapter done, and this one a week overdue; I know. I'm in the midst of finals week at my university so I've been giving more time over to study and the like since it is my obligation to do well and writing is a hobby.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, again it's a bit shorter than what I usually write but I hope you won't hold it against me considering the juiciness that I packed in as my means of apology for my tardiness.

**Next Chapter: **_Halloween _


	13. Chapter XI

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you all for your patience and reviews, I've had more than a fair number of great reviews in the past couple of weeks and I'm feeling really excited about taking this story further.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XI**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**October 24, 1992**

September sped past into October with little fanfare other than the pilings of homework and the burgeoning autumn storms that had come upon Hogwarts and refused to leave, for days on end it seemed that dark storm clouds had sailed in across the great expanse of blue sky and decided to unload their cargo of cold, fat raindrops onto the castle and its inhabitants.

The banks of the Black Lake had flooded and the huge lawns had become muddy bogs or isolated swamps, the sensible students had learned to remind indoors where it was comfortable and dry as those who didn't found themselves with chills and runny noses that had left Madam Pomfrey treating staff and students alike with her Pepperup potion.

The potent formula cleared the sinuses and eliminated the cold if you could endure having smoke billowing out of your ears for a few hours.

But telling the Gryffindor Keeper and Captain that practicing in that weather was not only dangerous but unproductive was tantamount to heresy and that was why Iris found herself trudging through rain with her broomstick cocked over her shoulder with her raven hair plastered to her scalp, neck, and down her back; with clothing that was soaked through to the skin.

Beside her Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell looked equally miserable although Alicia Spinnet looked far more at ease in the downpour with her face upturned towards the sky and trying to catch the rain in her mouth.

"At least one of us is having a good time." Katie grumbled as she fought against a puddle of mud to get her boot free of the sucking terrain as she glowered at her fellow Chaser but Alicia just spun about on bare feet with a playful smirk, "It's not so bad really, you really should just enjoy what nature gives you; feel the grass under your feet and the mud between your toes!"

Angelina shook her head but stopped as a waterlogged lock of hair whipped her in the face and sent a new trickle of water rolling down her face, "I swear, Wood is a maniac thinking that practicing in these conditions is going to give us any kind of an edge on over Slytherin. You heard what Fred and George were saying! They're like green missiles in the air on those new brooms!"

Iris nodded her head in agreement, she recalled how Slytherin had been nigh untouchable during their game against Harry; it had taken the catching of the Snitch to win the game and even then it had been a near thing since the other team had been moving across the field faster than the girls had been able to keep up with.

By the time the female members of the team had made it to the castle, they had long since been soaked through and were shivering at every gust of wind and the accompanied wall of rain that would come in sideways; three of the four had made a pact to dump ice water on Oliver Wood if he told them to practice in the conditions again while the fourth one was humming merrily to herself as she used her wand to spell her feet clean along with the boots of her teammates so they wouldn't track mud in through the school and get in trouble with Filch.

The only bright side of having such foul weather was that it had kept observers from watching their practices; Neville's crowd of followers always made their way out, even at the crack of dawn, to look at their maneuvers but Iris knew better and so did her teammates. Longbottom was out there to watch Iris fly, which no one could really fault him for since watching her on a broom was like watching an artist sculpt or a musician at a concert, but what bothered them was that he always had Ginny sitting right at his side while he did it.

It was common knowledge by now that the youngest Weasley was completely enamored with the boy and he had all but declared them as an item, but while he basked in her attention what he really wanted was Iris' and that had caused no end of friction between the two girls despite the fact that the raven haired girl wanted absolutely nothing to do with the pompous blowhard, the redhead considered her the other woman and treated her with contempt and disdain.

In any case, the other members of the Weasley family had taken to running interference; Ron was at Neville's side as the boy's best friend and therefore was almost always with Ginny, while the twins were never far from their teammates and that meant watching their Seekers back on and off the field. Percy… well Percy was more focused on his own affairs, namely Penelope Clearwater; they actually were in item and by all accounts he was wrapped around her finger, much to the amusement of those who knew him.

But by the time Iris had clambered through the portrait hole her thoughts were on nicer things, like a long hot shower and warm, dry clothes, and just maybe a nice cup of cider besides the fireplace. What she got instead was a blinding flash of light that left her seeing purple spots and a widely grinning Colin Creevey as he hurried away muttering about developing the picture.

With an aggrieved sigh, she climbed up to her dormitory with the snickers of the Gryffindors echoing in her ears and the eyes of her friends on her as they looked on the girl that looked remarkably like a drowned woman garbed in crimson and gold.

Liatris shook her head from her seat at a table with Hermione on one side and Pollux Black on the other, "You know, I always wanted to be on the Gryffindor team; I've practiced at being a Chaser since as long as I can remember but with a Captain like Oliver Wood, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he had managed to chase away every reserve player he had."

Hermione didn't even bother to look up from _Year with the Yeti _as she replied, "He has, reserve members of the team are generally pulled from the House in a dire situation, when Iris was in the infirmary last year after the… incident, it's as good a word as any other, Oliver asked for whoever could seat a broom without falling off to be the reserve Seeker. It didn't go well…" she trailed off as she flipped the page of her book leisurely while Pol snorted with mirth.

"That's putting it lightly; it was the worst defeat that Gryffindor suffered in three centuries." The boy said as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair ad looked down at the two feet of parchment he had written for his potions assignment and grimaced at the prospect of Snape grading it.

"This is ridiculous, I don't see why I'm even bothering with this; I already know that overgrown dungeon bat is going to flunk me! Pop said as much before I left home, I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting through his course with anything higher than a Poor!" Pollux grumbled as he stopped his inkpot and began to sprinkle sand on the parchment to dry the excess ink of his essay.

Liatris winced at that and wondered how McGonagall had taken that, on the bright side she shouldn't have any trouble looking Professor Flitwick in the eye, as nice as he was the man was rather vertically challenged.

Smiling a bit to herself with that mental image she looked up as the chatter in the common room dropped for a moment as a new face crept through the portrait hole and then surged upwards as everyone greeted Neville. The boy had an easy grin on his face as he mingled around the room and finally took a seat by the fireplace to her left beside Ginny and Ron.

"Hey mate, you're late; the team's been back for ages. What kept you?" Ron asked the boy as he lowered himself gracefully into the seat and crossed his leg over his knee, "I was held up by Sir Nicholas, he was looking rather troubled and we got to talking about things; it seems I got myself invited to his five hundredth death day party."

Ginny blinked in surprise and looked at the plump boy with a curious expression, "A death day party? As in celebrating the day he died? When is it supposed to be?" She asked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned towards the boy wonderingly.

"October thirty-first unfortunately, we'll miss the feast if we attend and seeing as he's a ghost… I'm not quite sure what he'll be serving his guests." Neville replied after a moment's pause as he considered what ghosts could serve at such a party.

Liatris listened attentively from her seat without turning her head away from the open page of her Transfiguration book but watching the trio around the fire through the reflection on her watch's crystalline surface.

She had spent a long time with her 'uncle' Sirius and her dad, a good prankster needed to know their target and to know your target you needed to be able to get information without being seen as overly interested… and of course creativity and seizing opportunities were required skills as well, and a slight degree of recklessness and a disregard for rules and authority.

But all of those traits were good for more than just laying prank and the words of the Sorting Hat were still fresh in her mind; she could turn weakness into strength. Her sister was strong but she had her weaknesses too, and while she might only be eleven; Liatris was from a pureblood line and that meant growing up a bit faster than other children had to.

As such, the beginning of a plan was forming in her mind, cogs began turning beneath shoulder length auburn hair.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**October 31, 1992**

In the course of a week Liatris had befriended much of Neville's courtiers, those her age knew her from class and it wasn't difficult for herself to get on a first name basis with most of them and the older students were easy enough to insinuate herself amongst, all it took was a bit of observation and some skillfully guided conversation and they all found themselves with a charming First Year to take under their wing.

Liatris was the social butterfly that her sister never was, Iris made few friends but those she made were true friends, loyal and honest; the younger sister had few such friends. But she had friends and acquaintances in abundance, how could she not when she had a knack for remembering faces and names.

People were quick to warm to a person who remembered their name and deeds; and none were more apt then the young girl was at getting people to warm to her. Which was all to the good because people were far less guarded when they were around friends, which made it easy to learn things about other people.

So when Iris and her friends were making their way to the Great Hall for the Halloween festivities where a noisy din was spilling out from behind massive oaken doors along with the warm glow of hundreds of floating jack-o'-lanterns and they spied Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley making their way into the dungeons, it was she who provided them with the answer.

"Well, I can't say I'll be overly saddened over his absence at the feast, even if this is just a hallmark sham of a holiday." Draco said as he looked at the ghastly glare of the blue candles as they cast the two boys in a sombre pallor that reminded him of seeing his grandfather's corpse when they laid him out for his memorial service.

"If you think about it, a deathday party is closer to Samhain than what this is; back home we celebrated life and remember the deeds of the dead and cherished their memory. Up here they celebrate the happy part and down in the dungeons they'll be celebrating the sad part; but neither will do both except for those of us who remember." Daphne said as she tucked a lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear while students streamed past her as they descended the Grand Staircase or emerged from the dungeons to take part in the festivities.

"And there's the rub, 'for those of us who remember' grow fewer and fewer every year." Iris said solemnly as she joined the procession of students into the massive chamber with its vaulted ceiling depicted a cloudy sky that obscured the stars and moon. With a wave, the party split in two as the Slytherins crossed to their table and the Gryffindors to their own, on opposing sides of the room.

With the trio of girls seated at their table, the food was already laid out and students were digging in and piling their plates high with meat pies, freshly baked bread, garlic crusted fish, baked potatoes and mashed turnips.

Between the tables, a troupe of animated skeletons were tumbling and dancing between the aisles while they pulled their bones apart and traded them amongst on another, skulls flew over tables as femurs were used to tap out rhythms against their ribcages and everyone who watched the scene found it all incredibly humerus.

The atmosphere was alive with laughter and conversation as a buzz filled the air and coloured the room with mirth and happiness. For all of that, Iris was filled with a foreboding and she couldn't put her finger on why. She had not been possessed of such a feeling in over a year but here it was again, like a fell itch that she daren't scratch at but still it gnawed in the recesses of her mind and it stole her appetite and what she did eat had no taste.

Hermione and Liatris were quick to pick up on her mood and they looked at her curiously as the raven haired girl swept her eyes down the length of the Gryffindor table and picked out every red head that had come to the table and only came short one on account of Ron being down in the dungeons, but her eyes fixed on Ginny.

The sight of the girl should have reassured her but it did not a thing for her anxiety, she had learned to her peril that fate rarely changed its designs easily and never in her favor. The fact that the design had changed this evening did not bode well for her and that knowledge was like feeling a knife pressed into the small of her back, a sharp threat precariously positioned.

"What's the matter? Is there something wrong with the food?" Hermione asked with a concerned expression on her face as she lowered her fork and looked across the table at her best friend.

"Food's fine, it's just… I've got a bad feeling." Iris said softly before taking a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet and cast a look across the high table and took note of the glowering Severus Snape as Gilderoy Lockhart was chatting him up amicably with that too bright smile and his periodic seeping gaze that made the lighthearted girls on their benches swoon.

McGonagall sat on Dumbledore's left this evening in the seat of honor, he was always inviting a different staff member to eat with him; never anyone twice in a row but everyone got a chance to sit beside him and voice their concerns or ideas informally.

Then there was Dumbledore himself, sitting in the center of the table in his gilded throne like some lofty sovereign, sitting higher than everyone else and looking down upon the subjects of his realm. She wondered when the kindly grandfather that Harry knew had become the manipulative tyrant that she knew, or had he always been this man wearing the façade and guising himself like the children who trick or treated on this day.

But besides the Headmaster was his Deputy, and while Tom Riddle never looked pleased or happy as far as Iris had known him he was far more melancholy this evening then she had expected him to be; his long black hair was loose and untamed giving him a wilder look than usual which was augmented by the scruffy five o'clock shadow that he had this evening that had left some of the older girls practically drooling for the mysterious and darkly beautiful man.

She watched as his eyes lingered on the Headmaster's hand and the large golden ring he wore with its large ruby center, how he cast his gaze down at his plate with the faintest of scowls that would lead anyone to think that he had disliked the food and then his eyes met her like they had done a hundred times in the past and probably would do a hundred times more in the future.

"Damn it!" Liatris muttered vehemently under her breath, sharply enough to turn Iris gaze down to her sibling and to get Hermione's head to turn and raise her eyebrows at the First Year. "I hate it when you say you have a bad feeling, you're always right when it comes to your bad feelings." Liatris said as she met her sister's emerald eyes with her hazel and then looked at the brunette's chocolate brown eyes.

"She's right you know, every time I've ever heard you say it or get into a bad mood it's only a matter of time before something terrible happens. You attract trouble enough to remember what it feels like." Hermione said with a smile to take the sting out of her words but her voice had been serious and the set of her jaw now only confirmed that she was on edge as well.

Iris didn't know whether or not she should find it pleasing or not that her companions were taking her gut feeling so seriously; if they had been more flippant then she might have been able to push it aside but with them putting credence in it… it put a chill down her back and when she looked back at the high table she noticed that a set of twinkling blue eyes had landed upon her.

And he was thumbing that ring of his again, but what was missed by sapphire and emerald eyes was not missed by obsidian; and Riddle watched as Lockhart looked from Dumbledore to Iris and then at the ring before reversing the trail. The smile he gave then was not the one that the girls would gush over, it was a more sinister, greedy smile and Riddle fought back the hiss that threatened to spill out his throat.

Whatever Lockhart was, he wasn't entirely stupid; and the way his eyes gleamed was enough to make him a threat to well laid plans and more importantly a threat to the girl. _'He will have to be dealt with then, quietly and never to be found. My specialty…'_ Riddle mused to himself as he fingered the wand up his sleeve and contemplated all the ways he could eliminate then man.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the roar that rent the air and seemed to make the very foundations of Hogwarts start in surprise as the walls seemed to shudder and one of the students wailed in terror but silence descended upon the hall in the wake of the roar.

Before the chaos could begin, Dumbledore rose from his seat and held up his heads which drew the frightened eyes of the students; distinguishable by the whites of their eyes and the stink that had broken out amongst them.

"Students, be calm! Tonight is Halloween and as many of you are aware, there are some amongst us who prefer the mischief of trick to the sweetness of the treat." Dumbledore declared in a resonant voice that bounced through the quiet of the Hall and eased the students as surely as a safety blanket. His blue eyes swept across the Gryffindor table before he leaned toward the man on his right.

"Tom, find Mr. Longbottom and see him safely returned to Gryffindor tower; Miss Weasley should know where he is." Dumbledore said softly to the Defense instructor so only the man could hear him, "Likewise, escort Iris Potter back as well; I'll hold the others here for a while longer." The man directed as an afterthought as he looked back across the room.

Riddle hid a scowl by slugging back the remainder of the red wine in his goblet before rising to his feet and drawing the eye of every student in the room as he swept down from the high table and along the length of the Gryffindor table with his robes swirling around him and giving him an air of danger that caused many of the students to lean away from him unconsciously as he passed them by.

All except for the girl with raven hair at the end of the table, nary so much as a flinch from her as she rose from her seat gracefully as he drew near and fell into step beside him without so much as a word on his part. Ire roiled in his chest as the pair departed from the Great Hall with a sudden rush of voices filling the vacuous silence behind them; Dumbledore's words still echoing in his ears.

'_She's an afterthought to him, nothing more than an instrument of his will; nothing more than a wand to be wielded. And he means Longbottom to wield it, might as well have told me to post her as the guard on the boy's door for all the subtlety he thinks he has!' _Riddle fumed to himself as he cast a glance at the girl beside and nearly lost himself to the torrent of hatred that sprung up from the dark depths of what was left of his soul at the vacant look in her eyes.

The intelligence behind the emerald orbs returned quickly enough but it was apparent enough to him that she has just been uploaded with some command of the Headmaster's, no doubt the very same one he had tasked her with a few scant months before.

"Longbottom should still be at Sir Nicholas' deathday party." Iris said as if in response to a question and then blinked perplexedly at the usual stoic set of Professor Riddle's face and resisted the urge to recoil back from the barely bridled fury in his obsidian eyes, with crimson seeping through the black and blossoming like carnations as it spread.

"The operative word there being 'should' Miss Potter, I need to know his exact whereabouts," Riddle said through clenched teeth as amicably as he could while he swallowed down his frustration and rage that was broiling beneath the paper thin veneer of calm he had until he felt himself go blessedly cold, all the heat that was threatening to smother him was replaced by a bone chilling frigidness that gave him complete control.

The change was instantaneous on the outside for Iris too, the fiery red that his eyes had been darkened to the color of dry blood and his expression was smoothed over by an icy calm; his eyes drooped half closed as if he were sleepy but to her he had never been more threatening. Somehow she knew that he was at a precipice right now, so closed to the killing edge that anything might set him off and whatever it was he would destroy it as assuredly as a mountain erodes beneath wind and rain.

Thinking it in her best interest to give him what he wanted, the girl consciously slipped backwards into her mindscape and took hold of her magic before casting it out like a massive web; stretching her senses throughout the castle until she was aware of every living thing in it. She could feel the heat coming from the bodies of the students and elves, the vibrations in the stone as spiders crawled in dark corners and hear the buffeting of the air by hundreds of owls.

Above all of that she could feel the magic in the air, the hum of it, like electricity in the lines that muggles set; she could taste its many flavors and hear its song reverberate to those who listened. The harmony that thrummed between Iris' friends and sister sounded like a small symphony working in concert, then there was the mourning dirge of the Headmaster that hung hauntingly, clearer than all the others was Riddle's song.

Chaotic, a booming drum that pulsed with his heartbeat, violins screaming plaintively, flutes sounding shrilly, and amidst all of it was a heart rending piano that sang out with torturing sadness but it was muffled and packed away beneath everything else.

Iris had to tear herself away from that particular song to find another, playing on the floor above by the girl's lavatory. It was familiar but distinctly different from the last time she had heard Lonbottom's magic, the organ was louder than before and no longer out of place but in the midst of the orchestra as though it belonged there.

'_Grindelwald's influence is growing and I don't hear Dumbledore in it at all, but that doesn't make any sense… surely, a Ring of Obedience would leave a bit of the wearer on its subject; it's tied to their blood after all.'_ Iris thought to herself as she took that half step forward into her body again and was suddenly assailed by a wave of vertigo and a blinding headache that caused her to breathe in sharply as though she had been stuck by knife between the ribs.

Riddle's hand shot out to steady her and she could feel the cold radiating from his hands and chilling her but it was a welcome distraction against the pain she found herself in, "He's on the next floor, by the girl's lavatory; he has Ron with him." Iris breathed out without whimpering from the pain that her voice caused as she spoke.

"Stupid child, sending out your magic like that just to find one person; everyone in the castle probably felt that… even the castle felt that." Riddle chastised gently as he took the girl by the arm and began to lead her up the staircase towards the first floor so that he could grab the troublesome boy that had caused his apprentice so much pain. _'How powerful is this child? Using her own raw magic she scried an entire castle's population to find one person; it's utterly ridiculous how much power she has and she doesn't even know it.' _

Riddle set a brisk pace and Iris stumbled more than she actually walked under her own power, but he kept his hand firmly on her elbow and he made certain she didn't fall though he was surprised by how light she was; somebody with that much magical strength should just be heavier somehow.

The pair made it to the first floor without too much difficulty and in time to hear the sudden din of voices and footsteps echoing up the staircase after them, telling them that Dumbledore had released the students at the conclusion of the feast; no doubt having felt Iris tendrils of magic he knew that they had located his little savior and would be on their way to get him ahead with enough of a lead to take him ahead of the crowd.

Rounding the corner the pair found Ron and Neville staring at a wall and muttering to each other softly with an edge of panic in the redhead's voice that was contrasted sharply by the cool demeanor of Neville as he touched the wall experimentally and then at something on the ground that they couldn't see because of their position.

"Weasley, Longbottom! What are you two doing up here? Did you not hear the roar? Come on, move it!" Riddle said as he came closer with Iris in tow though he drew up sharply when the boys jumped in surprise and backed away from the wall and revealed a mauled and mangled Mrs. Norris on the floor, her fur matted with blood and mewling softly in obvious pain.

But what caused Iris to stare in surprise were the words that had been gouged into the wall and stood starkly against the stone.

"_I see all there is to see _

_Your sins and virtues_

_Nothing hides from my sight_

_I see the noble and their injustice spawned_

_The clever and the plots by the clutch_

_The cunning and the betrayals they hatch_

_And all the rest with the misdeeds they sow_

_The Trial has come_

As Iris read the words she could hear sibilant laughter echo through the corridor and she looked around the corridor sharply even as the movement lanced her eyes with pain and nearly drove her to her knees, but she wasn't the only one searching since Riddle was likewise looking about the corridor with his wand in hand.

"_Sssuch a pretty girl to be called to trial, what a ssshame to wassste a little treasssure… maybe the Judge will give her to me to play with if ssshe isss guilty. I like my treasssures…" _The voice was feminine as it hissed, the words hanging in the air ominously as Iris realized that she was the only female present and she was the one the voice was talking about.

"_Ssshe understandsss too, oh yesss… I sssmell her sssurprise and her fear; do not worry little one, the Judge isss fair. Ssshe will give you to me, just you wait and sssee." _The voice gave another hissy laugh that faded away as it moved. Iris was too wracked with pain to bring herself to Gaze and look for the source of the voice behind stone walls but from the way that Riddle was looking at her with concern she knew full well that he had heard the words too.

But they were not alone to discuss what they had heard with Ron staring at them in trepidation for being at the scene of a crime while Neville looked at them with a casual nonchalance that was marred by the heated glare he was giving the Defense instructor as the older man was still cupping Iris' elbow to give her support so she wouldn't fall.

Those two were the least of their worries as the corridor was suddenly filled with the bustling of voices and the shuffling of feet as school children flooded it from both sides, eager to see what had caused the disturbance earlier and driven by the mob mentality that they were safe in their massive numbers, but while the words that had been carved intrigued them many of them recoiled in horror as they saw the mutilated form of Filch's cat.

When the caretaker pushed to the head of the crowd to see what all the commotion was about and he saw the condition of his pet, he howled with rage and grief as he swooped down on the cat and lifted her gingerly into his arms completely disregarding the smears and bloodstains that would mar his coat as he turned his beady eyes unto the boy's that had been absent from the feast.

"What did you do to my cat! How could you harm a defenseless creature! I'll see you both castrated and strung up by your bowels!" The man was yelling as he cradled the injured animal to his chest as rage and anguish twisted his pox marked face and made him look rather more terrifying then he normally did.

Neville began to protest and Ron simply looked at the man as if he was crazy while the rest of the onlookers began to murmur amongst themselves at the likeliness of the two boys having actually mutilating an animal, many of the Gryffindors were defending their housemates; the Weasley clan the most vocal of them all.

But the contentions died as Dumbledore cut through the crowd calmly, "Now Argus, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable…" The Headmaster's words were left unuttered as he saw the actual damage done to the cat and then he looked from Mrs. Norris to Neville and Ron in shock before his eyes slipped over to Riddle and a look of accusation bloomed in his eyes as he blamed the professor for not getting the boy out of the corridor fast enough to avoid causing this kind of a scene.

When he looked at Iris, the girl felt her stomach drop through the floor and a cloying sense of despair began to rise up in her threat, threatening to suffocate her savagely at the disappointment in the old man's face before Riddle put himself between her and the Headmaster, the emotion dropped almost immediately and she began to shiver as pins and needles began to run across her skin; an after taste of the magic that had nearly suffocated her.

"Headmaster, the boys couldn't have done this! Look at the wall!" Riddle urged quietly as a sneer of distaste formed on his lips as he came to the defense of the Gryffindors but his words turned the silver haired sage to the stone and he read the words that had been left behind and turned to the Caretaker.

"Argus, I assure we will do everything in our power to help Mrs. Norris as best we can; I urge you to take her to Madam Pomfrey. Every moment is precious, ah now Mr. Filch, I'll see that the boys are questioned." Dumbledore cut off the man as he opened his mouth but he shut it abruptly with a click and a furious glower at the two suspects before stalking angrily through the crowd.

"Prefects, take your Houses to your dormitories; you two with me!" the Headmaster directed and pointed at the two discovered at the scene of the crime before turning his head narrowly and fixing Riddle with a look that said they would speak later and perhaps less friendly then was usual but he was unable to make eye contact with the raven haired girl standing behind his deputy.

Thumbing his ring angrily, Iris nearly stepped out from behind the Defense instructor as the rest of the students began to disperse as the all began talking earnestly about the night's revelations, but she forced herself to stand utterly still. But that proved to be exceedingly difficulty as she repudiated herself for her cowardice at being unable to face an old man and just as she was summoning her courage she caught a familiar scent in the air. As the scent of dittany filled her nostrils all of her turmoil bled out of her and she was replaced with a deep serenity.

Stepping calmly from behind Riddle protective posture she faced the Headmaster who was now flanked by McGonagall and Snape, meeting his deep blue eyes she barricaded her mind behind shields forged of her adamant will and noted the flicker of triumph that flitted across Dumbledore's face as Riddle stiffened beside her began to radiate an icy heat.

From her other side came another magical presence that reeked of lilacs and daises but couldn't completely cover up the odor of corruption, it stank of rot and compost, and the voice… it was enough to grate on anyone's nerves but considering how raw hers were it took considerable restraint to keep from laying him out.

"A pity what happened to Mrs. Norris, had I been here to defend her I would have seen no harm come to her." Gilderoy Lockhart said with his familiar smile and the charming twinkle in his eye as he lamented over his inability to be everywhere at once and protect all the helpless creatures from all the terrible things in the world.

"Yes, I'm sure you would have Gilderoy; but more pressingly, Misters Longbottom and Weasley, did you have anything to with this? The defacing of the school or the attack on Mrs. Norris?" Snape questioned sharply as he dismissed the fraud and fixed the two with pointed stare that would have culled an axe murderer.

"Of course not Professor! We would never have done anything to Mrs. Norris! I mean… I would have liked to kick her but so does everyone else - not that I ever did or anything…" Ron replied as he fumbled for the words to defend himself while Neville seemed to compose himself under the pressure and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder that silenced the boy.

"No Professor Snape, we did not attack the cat nor did we deface the wall, if you'd like I will gladly present my wand for evaluation as there would be no other way for me to carve a missive into solid rock." Neville stated calmly as he drew his wand and held it out to the Potions Master with such an easy confidence it was hard to believe this was the same boy that had gotten so frustrated by the Professor's jibes and barbs the previous school year.

Severus actually began to reach out for it but Dumbledore coughed into his hand, "I'm sure that won't be necessary Mister Longbottom, I'm quite convinced of your innocence. What about you Tom? When you and Miss Potter arrived did you notice anything unusual?" The Headmaster turned the inquisition over to the two parcelmouths who had definitely heard something unusual and suspicious while he placed both of his hands behind his back and leaned in attentively, keying his Ring to prompt an answer from his vassal.

The urge to speak was overwhelming for a moment before the deep serenity consumed it and left Iris unburdened by the compulsion magic that Dumbledore was working as he had done before in the past. "No Headmaster, I didn't notice anything unusual besides a mangled feline and some very curious phrases on the wall." She replied coolly, after all hearing serpent speak was not unusual to someone who conversed with such reptiles often.

The answer seemed to satisfy Dumbledore, after all she had been asked under the power of his enthrallment; how could she lie to him under such conditions; he was more than willing to take her at her word because her word was guaranteed. "Very well, I'll leave you in the care of your housemates and trust you'll return straight away to the Tower, yes?" The statement was more command than rhetoric as she gracefully bowed out of the presence of her instructors and with a parting look at Riddle who gave her a nod of acknowledgment the three second years were gone.

"What is this nonsense Headmaster? A trial at Hogwarts?" McGonagall questioned the elderly man once the children were well out of earshot and the other instructors gathered around to share the stern woman's curiosity.

"An old legend my dear, one as old as Hogwarts itself; I'm afraid the tale in its entirety eludes me at the moment and I'm not one to share a tale that I do not fully know." The Headmaster stated as the stepped forward and drew his wand to prod the stone with a mumbled word that caused the stone to shift and close the fissures of the letters only to see them carved anew. "But I do remember that it was quite the tragedy, and I am not fond of sad endings."

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**November 3, 1992**

The next couple of days at Hogwarts it seemed the only subject of conversation on anyone's mind was the message that had been etched into the wall and how despite the efforts of every teacher including the esteemed Gilderoy Lockhart had felt to erase the carved missive.

Beyond the cryptic words was the news about Mrs. Norris the most hated feline in the school it seemed had garnered some sympathy from the softer hearted individuals who couldn't stand to see an injured animal.

It seemed that Madam Pomfrey had done all she could for the cat in cleaning and bandaging her injuries but the origin or nature of the attack prevented her from magically healing the animal without inducing a pain filled reaction and she believed that while the cat would make a full recovery it would take months for the injuries to fully heal.

The news had come as a relief to Filch, but the man was noticeably anxious and had taken to pacing the corridor in which his beloved feline companion had been so grievously assaulted, anyone who cut through the hallway often found themselves dragged to his office and interrogated on the basis that they were returning to the scene of the crime.

His motivations weren't unfounded, from what Hermione recalled from her readings and what Iris knew from Harry watching the telly, Muggle psychologists had verified that certain criminals did return to the area in which they perpetrating their crimes in order to re-experience the events. But that was little consolation to the students who found themselves late to class or otherwise distracted from their activities by an overzealous would-be investigator.

Of course, while everyone else was content to gossip and rumormonger, Hermione had tasked herself with dredging up every text she could find that referred to trials at Hogwarts… along with every other curious student it seemed since every copy of _"Hogwarts: A History" _had been checked out of the library and the waiting list for it was over a foot and a half long when Madam Pince unrolled that parchment.

But while she read through Iris' copy of the book twice there was no mention of Hogwarts ever being the venue of any contemporary trial, in fact the closest thing regarding a trial was the Sorting Ceremony that every student went through, a fact that the message in the wall had obviously referred to.

After three days of researching fruitlessly, Hermione tried a different tact; one that had never been tried before and absolutely stunned everyone that was in attendance for Professor Binns' lecture that Tuesday afternoon.

As per usual, the only ghost on staff slipped into the classroom through the blackboard, a feat that had initially captured the attention of numerous first years; as how often did you get to see a teacher that could go through solid objects? But after a year of boring lectures issued by the remains of a man who had passed away and just kept on going with what he always did the students had already gotten used to the entrance.

By the time Binns had finished having all the students turn in their three foot long essays and launched into his usual monotonous drone, most of the class' occupants had tuned out the man in favor of other tasks; Ron for instance used the time to catch up on his sleep while Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil passed notes between each other and muffled their giggles behind their hands.

Most annoying of it all was Neville attempting his approximation of a sultry bedroom stare that he directed at Iris, who in turn gave him not a moment's notice as she read out of the history text book and jotted down notes and interesting tidbits of information that might be useful in some essay of other that she would probably have to write in the future.

When Hermione raised her hand though, it was as if someone had discovered a way to make Binns corporeal for just moment and used it to slap him across the face, he stared in wide eyed surprise and gaped slightly at the young girl that had interrupted his lecture. Such an event had not occurred, that he could not recall happening, since he had actually known what the wind felt like against his skin.

"Yes, what is it?" Binns acknowledged the raised hand and Hermione gathered herself for a moment before asking a question that picked up the heads of every student and had them all riveted to the brunette, "Professor, I was hoping you could tell us about this 'Trial' that was mentioned?"

The ghost's facial expression said it all, he had no interest in discussing that particular topic at all; "Miss Grainer, I deal in the relaying of the truth; not the drivel of some hoodlum that has desiccated this institution with legends long forgotten."

The historian was quick to shut down the question and everyone was already beginning to return to their usual habits of tuning out the lecture but Hermione persisted when she raised her hand a second time and Binns looked absolutely floored, he hadn't had someone this involved in a lecture in over a dozen years.

"But sir, aren't all legends based in some part on truth? As a historian you know that legends are the oral tradition of those who preceded us and thus we must remember those stories lest we forgot our forefathers." Hermione stated with such resolve that the other students were nodding in affirmation and looking to the professor with an eagerness that pervaded the classroom.

"Very well Heather, as you all know this institution was founded by four of the greatest wizards in history and most assuredly the best of their time. But each founder wished to teach only a specific breed of wizard, Godric Gryffindor believed that those most worthy should be brave and courageous, willing to stand for what was right at all costs. Rowena Ravenclaw desired the most intelligent and those who would seek the truth. Salazar Slytherin wanted only those of purest blood, those most likely to keep the histories alive.

"But Helga Hufflepuff was of the mind that everyone, regardless of their origins and character should be able to learn magic; because a learned society spreads civility and progress. She believed strongly that students would forge bonds of loyalty and honesty as they learned about the responsibility that magic carried with it. She wasn't naive however, Salazar after all proved that power could corrupt and distort a man.

"So she swore to create a means that would ascertain that the students and the teachers of Hogwarts were not corrupted by the power they wielded. It is believed that she created a private workshop from which she developed the means of cleansing the school.

"Of course this is all just sensational rubbish, in over a thousand years no one has ever seen her workshop or the devices, if any, that she created. Now, if you are all quite satisfied with the sharing of myths and ghost stories; we will return to history!"

And within five minutes, the class had descended into its usual torpor, all except for two; Hermione of course was probably thinking of all the information and gadgetry that might exist in the hidden workshop but Iris was concerned with other things. If the Trial had come to Hogwarts after millennia in the making, there was bound to be more than a few people who would be found guilty of falling to the wayside of magic; Longbottom, Lockhart, even Dumbledore.

What really ate at her though was herself, she remembered the window in the dungeons and its ominous words. She would be judged and that prospect left her stomach twisted in a ball of apprehension because she remembered hands slick with blood… her hands and fascination in Neville's eyes.

* * *

><p>In the midst of the Great Hall that evening, Hermione was retelling the legend that she had pried out of Binns to their circle of friends; as were most of the other Gryffindors that had managed to stay conscious throughout the telling. No doubt by the end of the meal the tale would have swept through the entire student body.<p>

"Do you reckon it's true? I mean, I've never heard of anything like that before and ol' Hufflepuff never seemed the kind of witch that would toss out the unjust or whatever. I mean Gryffindor sure, but Hufflepuff! I mean look at the people in that House, the lot of them together couldn't hurt a fly." Pollux was saying from besides Liatris.

The girl frowned at the statement and shook her head, "Hufflepuff's House has all the students who don't fit the mold for the rest of the houses; bravery, cleverness, and cunning. That was it, nothing on being artistic, or creative, or honest; if anyone was capable of developing a means of rooting out their perception of corruption then I would bet that Hufflepuff would be the one to figure it out."

Hermione nodded her agreement with the younger witch, "Lia is right on the mark, especially that last point; if this Trial is serious and we have no reason to believe it is-" "Or isn't!" Daphne shot in edgewise and smiled sweetly at Hermione's pointed look, "then it'll be on her perception of corruption and thus she introduces bias into the proceedings. It isn't a trial at all it's, if you'll pardon the expression, a witch-hunt."

"Whatever! Look! Speculating about this is getting us nowhere but in a foul mood, but we do have plenty of evidence that whoever is stirring this stuff up is dangerous. The words carved into the wall haven't been erased and Mrs. Norris is healing at an extensively retarded rate; so whoever it is that did all of this has the ability to ward off magic and can put that effect on their leavings. Considering Professor Riddle and Headmaster Dumbledore are here, I don't think that whatever we're dealing with is entirely human."

Blaise argued calmly, speaking up for the first time and as usual making a hefty contribution to the conversation, the boy was preternaturally quiet by habit but when he deemed it necessary to speak there was no denying that he was usually right.

"Well in that case there has to be some hint as to what it is, it attacked a cat and carved up a wall; you don't do something like that without leaving something of yourself behind. All we need to do is find out what it left behind and we're one step closer to finding out what we're dealing with." Draco said as he looked around the cluster of students that had formed at the end of Gryffindor table, seven students departing at once would be conspicuous.

Iris picked up on her cousin's train of thought quickly enough, "I'll leave first, and then you guys can go up in pairs every few minutes to avoid suspicion." The raven haired girl instructed them as she rose from her seat at the table and headed out of the Great Hall.

The exercise would be futile, whatever signs might have been left by the creature would surely have been destroyed when the whole school descended on that corridor and contaminated the scene; the average person sheds about a hundred hairs a day, foreign particles could stick to clothing for days or stay wedged in the soles of shoes for considerably longer periods.

More than that though, she knew the creature was serpentine and it had spoken about her; that it wanted to keep her a trophy of some sort. She knew plenty of snakes, the asps in the woods around the Potter estate, Nagini, the few who lived at the border of the Forbidden Forest and even the garden snakes that were often around Hagrid's hut keeping the vermin from his crops.

None of those had ever exhibited the hoarding style of behavior (except for Nagini, but she was just being playful) and that troubled her. What troubled her more was that she had not yet told her friends about her ability to commune with snakes, she suspected Liatris knew but she also knew her sister would never tell anyone her secrets.

Rationally, she knew that telling her friends wouldn't matter much; the three Slytherins would jibe that she should be in the dungeons with them and Hermione would be shocked at first and then become insanely interested in the ability, firing a thousand questions at what it was like and what they talked about. But there was a part of her that doubted, she remembered Ron and Hermione being shocked and scared by Harry's outing; and when they said only Dark Wizards were parceltongues.

She found that to be an erroneous statement now, her own ancestor had made the argument that since magic was derived from a genetic trait that it would only be natural for certain traits from the original introduction of magical genes would survive. Merlin had been able to influence a kingdom because of his incubi heritage; Morgan Le Fay derived from the fae-folk and was known as an immensely talented healer in her time. The Potter line had either inherited its magic from the Naga people of Asia or it had been introduced into the family latter on.

Plenty of people could carry the dormant trait for communing with serpents or any nature of creatures without necessarily being a bad person, though on that note she was beginning to have some doubts; and that was what stilled her voice and kept her from mentioning it. Because this time when Hermione said that only Dark Wizards were parceltongues, Iris would not know if she was wholly innocent of that charge.

But Riddle had already drilled it into them in class, Dark magic or no; it was the will and intent of the witch or wizard that shaped the spell. If you used a dark curse on someone to save a friend or family wasn't the spell justified? Ethics and morality had never been high on the curriculum as far as Iris could remember from Harry's memories when it came to Hogwarts, but Riddle focused on the philosophy of action and not just the action itself. Everything was a matter of perspective and the first rule was that there were no absolutes.

Iris let her feet take her up stairs and around corners until she was standing in front of the scripture on the wall; the corridor was barren of any life save the guttering of the torches as the flames danced in their sconces and cast a portrait of moving shadows. A chair was propped up against the wall from where Filch had taken to nightly vigils as he attempted to root out the criminal that had assaulted his pet.

The raven haired witch gazed at the carved words curiously; the words were not cryptic or fancifully written but direct and to the point. They were meant to convey the threat explicitly and without deception, there was something to that though she couldn't make any sense of it at the moment except that it was familiar.

Stepping closer to the wall she traced the words with her finger, feeling the smoothness of the gouges in the stone and how they were progressively shallow at the base of the letter and at the top, not uniformly deep. That was even more curious than the message itself; it lent itself to the 'how' of it all; the resilience to being erased even when a wizard like Dumbledore transfigured the stone.

A quiet cough made Iris whirl around, her muscles suddenly taut and ready to spring as her wand dropped into her hand; taking back the translucent Moaning Myrtle whose eyes opened wide in surprise by the sudden and violent reaction she had prompted in the young girl. The ghost floated around Iris curiously, the air becoming appreciably colder as she drew nearer and looked into the vibrant emerald eyes of this living girl.

There was an air about this Second Year that was entirely alluring for the ghost, a vitality that surged under her skin that was so rare to find as most people simply went through life but this youngling lived hers. There was a scent on those rare people, those who had seen the extent of the beyond as life ebbed away; and this girl carried it around like perfume. It was positively intoxicating for the ghost to be in her presence; she would forever be denied the sweet embrace of Death having chosen to linger amongst the living but being in this spot right then was almost as good.

"Terrible business with all that, I can hardly stand to be in my lavatory with all the commotion it stirred up; everyone is just so curious to see this wall." Myrtle commented as she floated near Iris while the living girl relaxed and sheathed her wand.

"You didn't see what happened that night did you?" Iris asked as she returned to her inspection of the wall and wondered where her friends were, surely they should have come up by now to help her with the investigation that they had suggested in the first place.

"No, Peeves had upset me so I had gone to my lavatory; all I know was there was a frightful roar on Halloween and I certainly wanted no part of that." Myrtle replied as she watched the girl return to feeling the grooves, "What are you doing there exactly?" She questioned as she hovered over the girl's shoulder to see what she was doing better and to 'breathe' the scent that clung to the girl.

"Did you notice that these letters were etched into the wall manually, magic would have carved the letters exactly the same but these are sloped at the top and bottom. But it wasn't chiseled, the interior is perfectly smooth, not rough or pitted from strikes. These were scratched into the wall." Iris explained as she placed her finger into the slot and imitated dragging her finger down the line, shallow at the top then deeper in the middle as more pressure was applied and then shallow on the bottom as she pulled her finger back.

"Who could carve stone with their nails?" Myrtle puzzled as she thought of all the people that she would have liked to claw like that, Olive Hornby would never have made fun of her like she did and gotten her killed if she had shredded her face and left it hanging in tatters.

"That's the question isn't it; when I find out who could do it I'll likely find the one that actually did it." Iris said though looking again at the actual message she wondered, there was nothing deceptive about the message; no veiled threat or hidden message but just out in the open like that. It was wrong somehow, atypical…

But her thoughts were interrupted as her charm bracelet pulsed with warmth and raised the jewelry to see the blue bead glowing brightly, holding the small talisman to her ear she listened as Daphne's voice spilled out into her ear. "Percy told us that the first floor corridor was off limits and anyone found there would be punished, Filch just left the Great Hall so get away from there ASAP."

Iris huffed at the words but she had picked over what she could and had at least picked out a few things that stood out and pointed her in the right direction, along with the roar that had happened that night and the voice she had heard; it was a decent starting point.

"Sorry to run out on you like this Myrtle but Filch is coming and I really don't want to get in trouble by being here when he shows up." Iris gave the ghost a sincere apology, after all of Harry's memories of the ghost it was almost like talking to an old friend and Myrtle actually smiled as the witch departed for Gryffndor tower in earnest.

"That girl is like a piece of the Beyond made flesh, whatever happens she must not share my toilet." Myrtle swore to herself as she watched the young girl's retreating back and the bounce of ebony locks before she turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**November 6, 1992**

Saturday rolled round quickly, after Iris' investigation she had related her evidence over the charm bracelet to her Slytherin companions while she told her fellow Gryffindors in person in the common room. That had sparked a full out investigation for Hemione, if she could find out a way to replicate the method for carving into stone with one's bare hands or a tool that could cut that cleanly then she suspected she would have the answer to who had done it.

It became usual to see the girl poring over books on transfiguration and charms that would strengthen nails or make things sharp enough to shear through anything. Daphne had joined the investigation from the other direction, researching enchanted items that could already cut through anything or make someone capable of the action.

Iris desperately wished to join them in the library, the concept by itself was intriguing and would be quite useful to learn; the applications towards defense and traps were numerous along with the utility of having the ability to create tools that never dulled or could cut through super dense materials.

Unfortunately she had been spending her nights and dawns on the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor team, honing themselves to cut through the broomstick advantage that Slytherin was bringing to the first match of the season. What was worse was that no matter when they were out training she could expect to see Neville's smug expression in the stands with his posse.

The day of the game, Iris headed for the Great Hall especially early as she churned over all of her techniques for dealing with the fastest brooms available on the market as well as beating one of her best friends; Draco was a good Seeker in his own right but Iris was on a completely different level. While the school might not have any idea just how capable she was; Draco had practiced with her over the summer and he knew full well what she could do.

Which was why she felt a bit of nervousness worm its way into her gut for the first time over a match, because her cousin knew her tricks and had helped her practice her maneuvers; he would know all her plays and strategies while he was still something of an enigma in that regard to her. He had never practiced his maneuvers with her and as far as she knew he hadn't harbored any serious inclination to join the Slytherin team.

Now that she was really thinking about it she couldn't help but feel a bit of betrayal and hurt over his actions and then his father had gone and bought the best brooms that gold could buy for the entire Slytherin team. That she had expected of the man, no matter that he had a change of heart towards the end of summer and had begun to warm to the Potter girls he was still the man who let his son have nothing but the best and therefore expected nothing but the best from him.

By eleven o'clock the school was filing out to the pitch and Iris knew her parents would be up in the stands to watch her game even as the air outside was thick with humidity and unseasonably warm; thunder rumbled in the distance and reverberated through the mountains that surrounded the castle and carried across the lake. Her friends were obviously conflicted over who to cheer for but they went through the motions of wishing both her and Draco the best of luck.

She stepped into the locker room and donned her scarlet robes before sitting on one of the benches while Wood set about giving them his pregame inspirational speech. "Slytherin has the better brooms, no point in denying it; and I know we're all anxious over it but remember we have the better players on ours. We've trained longer and harder than they have, in every weather condition, all they have is some store bought speed but none of our skill and none of your talent." Wood said with fierce pride in his voice that silenced even Fred and George from their usual light hearted banter.

"We're going to be relying on you Iris, you have the fastest broom of all of us; you're going to have to show that Slytherin needs more than a fast broom to win a game, they need a seeker who can use that speed." He continued as he set his heavy gaze on her and she nodded her head as she resolved herself to beat her cousin.

"No pressure, huh Iris?" George quipped on that note with a wink and a small smile; while Angelina snickered, "What pressure? Iris could teach the National Team a thing or too if what Lockhart says about them offering him a spot is true."

That earned some chuckles as everyone suited up their pads and shouldered their brooms as the marched out onto the field as the crowd came to life around them, the buzzing of hundreds of voices soared as the people began to cheer for the crimson clad players. Gryffindor was joined by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as their voices filled the air though the undertone of hissing and booing could be detected from the field of green clad spectators.

It didn't matter to Iris as she could already feel the beating of her heart in her ears and the beginning of adrenaline shooting in her veins as her nerves died away and were replaced with an eager anticipation; it wasn't often that you got to prove that equipment was the smaller part of a match and the player was the greater part. She would relish the opportunity to school the spectators that were betting against her at that very moment.

Madam Hooch, the hawkeyed Flying instructor and referee called both captains to the middle of the pitch to shake hands as she issue her instructions and while both Flint and Wood clasped hands they stared menacingly into each other's eyes as they squeezed for all they were worth, the cords of their necks sticking out as they attempted to pulverize the other's hand with their grip.

"On my whistle! Three…two…one!" Hooch's whistle sliced through the air before it was drowned out by the surge of humanity as voices filled the air while the players took to it and seemed to ride the tide of those calls as they ascended upwards.

Iris could barely hear the crowd at all as the wind whistled in her ear as she climbed for altitude like a bullet, across the field another player matched her action a half second late before he shot across the length of the pitch to demonstrate the power of his broom or maybe he was just relishing the speed and the rush that going that fast gave Iris herself.

She had little time to think on it before she was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu as she rolled to the side to dodge an incoming Bludger that passed close enough to her head that tendrils of her hair were picked up by its passing. George appeared a moment later with a brief, "Close one Iris." Before he batted the enchanted projectile towards a Slytherin Chaser only to see the iron sphere curve in midair and double back for the Gryffindor Seeker.

This wasn't right, why was Dobby coming after her? She hadn't even encountered the House-elf save briefly at the Malfoy Estate over the summer and he had looked considerably better than when he had encountered Harry. But even if he was involved, he should be targeting Neville, trying to get that boy out of Hogwarts rather than killing her.

Whatever the root cause, she was now being chased by a rogue Bludger… again; "My luck sucks," Iris muttered under her breath to herself as she shot towards Slytherin players and weaved her way through the Chasers and forced them to scatter or suffer. Fred managed to deflect it with a powerful swing that rang briefly as Adrian Pucey took a blow to the ribs that let Angelina take the Quaffle and head for the goal posts but it was only a temporary respite before it was once again on her tail.

Rain began to fall in heavy droplets, spectators in the stands drew umbrellas or parkas or rain repelling cloaks but the players felt the splattering of droplets amidst the roots of their hair as it was matted down and began to run down their faces in rivulets or else splashing against their cheeks and necks and trailing down the lengths of their spines.

Iris didn't give up on looking for the Snitch as Fred drew up on her flank and served as her shield while George picked up the other Bludger and stuck to protecting the rest of the team. Iris kept an ear out for Lee Jordan's commentary as he announced that Slytherin's last goal had put the score to Forty-Thirty against Gryffindor's favor.

Iris' reckless dives and weaving through the opposing team had given Gryffindor the ability to stand toe to toe against the faster brooms because their formations were constantly being interrupted and they were not happy about it at all having sent their Beaters to compete with Fred and trying to put the Seeker out of commission.

With the two Slytherin Beaters coming up behind the rogue Bludger and pelting it forward when it was already on Iris tail, it took all of Fred's ability to fly and protect the girl but even then he was unable to keep her from every hit, the enchanted iron ball slipped under a grazing blow from his swing and deflected low. Rather than crashing into the back of Iris' head it dipped and slammed into her elbow, from his position Fred could hear the crack and crunch of bone as the joint was shattered and the ragged yell that tore through the girl's throat from the pain that raced up from her arm to her brain like a trail of molten steel as her nerves exploded with signals.

Fred signaled to Oliver for a time out and the Keeper must have gotten the message since Madam Hooch blew her whistle, the Gryffindor team assembled at the base of their hoops; and all attention was immediately focused on the Seeker's right arm as it hung uselessly against her side, her face set in a stoic mask to hide her pain but they all knew that anyone else would be an absolute mess after an injury like that but Iris wasn't one to complain or bring the team down.

"Oliver, that Bludger hasn't gone for anyone but Iris this whole game; Slytherin must have bewitched it!" Fred stated immediately as the team was assembled under the rain, droplets plastering their hair down and rivulets of water running down their faces.

"But the balls have been in Madam Hooch's office since we practiced with them last, no one should have been able to bewitch them until the balls were released today." Wood stated as he looked at Iris anxiously, but his words were quickly overwritten by Angelina, "Who cares how it was done? What matters is that it is and Iris is hurt! An investigation about this needs to happen and she needs treatment!"

"No! If we ask for an investigation it means that Gryffindor forfeits the match; we've trained too hard for us to go out against them over some technicality! We should finish the game and ask for an investigation after we win!" Iris said hoarsely as she adamantly ignored her broken arm as she looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin team who were pointing and laughing derisively at them and imitating her flight around the pitch to dodge the Bludger.

"At the very least we should call in a substitute for Iris, she needs to get that arm checked out." Katie said as she looked at the second year worriedly, along with the rest of the team but the girl's emerald eyes were fixed on Oliver's brown orbs. "I'm the best Seeker in the House, and no reserves have practiced with us in weeks. I'm staying in, and I'm catching that Snitch!"

Madam Hooch stepped amongst them and Iris turned to hide her injury from the referee and gave the Captain a meaningful look as the woman asked them if they were ready to resume play. Wood looked around at his team before looking at Iris' fiercely determined face and sighed to himself, "We're ready." He said to the referee while his team gave him the evil eye while Iris simply gave him a nod of thanks.

The teams mounted their brooms once more and kicked off into the air, Iris tucked her injured arm into her robes using them as a makeshift sling while she directed her broom with just her left, the Bludger that had been zipping around in the air while the players were down below immediately refocused on her and shot after her like a massive bullet.

Fred didn't even have time to get in position as her blocker before the wisp of a girl hunkered down against her broom and bolted across the pitch, eking out every drop of speed that her Nimbus could provide and when it had reached it limit and was shuddering from the strain, she used a bit of own magic to push it just that much faster. She was maroon blur that was tearing through the air, her head was constantly swiveling to keep a look out for a flash of gold while the bludger that had tormented her throughout the game fell further and further behind.

And just like that, she saw it; the splash of precious metal as it zipped past a head of platinum blonde hair and Iris felt all that raw, unbridled emotion fill her breast as she saw the boy and she poured all of it into the dive bomb run as she dropped down from above, the wind whistled furiously in her ears her pulse thrummed in her forehead and surged through her body, angry pulses of red hot pain came back to her from her arm but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was the crescendo of emotion and adrenaline as it stormed through her veins, Draco looked up just in time to see the hurtling form of his cousin and just managed to dance out of the way as she passed him with a shriek of triumph as she pulled her hand away from the broom and closed around the winged golden sphere.

With victory secured, she began to careen towards the soggy ground of the pitch below and she closed her eyes tight as she attempted to level off with just the strength of her knees as it was impossible to bring her hand back down to the broom because of how fast she was going. She felt a sudden impact at the head of her broom and opened her eyes to see a gloved hand and an arm swathed in green fabric guide her safely to the ground after a single victory lap to bleed of all of that extra speed.

By the time her feet touched the ground, Iris' lip was bloody from biting down to hold back the screams of pain she wanted to give as her arm jolted with every eddy of crosswind that jerked her broom away from Draco's corrective maneuvering.

Her team had already landed and they were quick to help her dismount from the broom and laid her down on the wet grass, at that point she was beyond caring so long as her arm didn't have to move anymore. She was surprised she hadn't blacked out from the pain yet but somehow after everything that Harry had gone through she knew that her inherited fortitude would not let her succumb to something as mundane as a broken arm… even if it was an irregular way of acquiring one.

It did not take long before the pitch was awash in a sea of humanity, students and staff alike were crowding around to see if the Seeker was alright but through all of them a single figure cut through with his radiant smile and poignant air of celebrity.

"I've taught her everything she knows, ya'know that don't you? Let me through!" Gilderoy Lockhart was the last person she wanted near her and as he knelt beside her she managed to groan out something along the lines of, "For the love of Merlin, not you!" A sentiment that was really quite clear in its intent but somehow was ignored by the crowd with a simple, "She's delusional from the pain, I'll fix her arm in a jiffy!"

The blonde haired man grabbed her firmly by her shattered elbow and waved his wand over the injured arm and incanted, "Brachium Emendo!" and just like that all sensation of pain fled from her arm, and so too did all other sensations and Iris didn't even need to look to know that all of the bones in her broken arm had just been magicked away. "Ah well… that happens sometimes." The professor murmured as he gingerly picked up the rubberized arm and watched as it flopped boneless back to the ground.

Without the lances of pain to stop her she managed to twist onto her side and her hand clamped down on the man's throat like a vice, her twelve year old fingers squeezed his larynx with expert precision as she snarled at the man, "You idiot! Why couldn't you just let me see the nurse! She could have mended this in a heartbeat while you've gone and made everything worse!"

It took Draco and Oliver to pry her fingers away from the blue faced instructor and hold her against the ground while more competent faces pushed through the crowd, Lily and James Potter were the first to arrive at her side and her mother was torn between concern and outrage at seeing her daughter's condition, James was easily more outraged than concerned seeing as once he managed to get one of the Weasley twins to say who had vanished the bones the Auror shoved through the crowd to get to Lockhart.

Clapping a hand on Gilderoy's shoulder, he spun the blonde haired man around causing him to yelp with surprise and glare indignantly at the bothersome intrusion, "What is the meaning of this? How dare you lay hands upon me? Do you know who I am?" Lockhart demanded as he straightened his aquamarine robes. "This is about you ineptness for magic and the assault upon my daughter, you witless toad!" James stated loudly enough for the surrounding crowd to hear and in front of at least a hundred witnesses he executed the finest haymaker that most had ever seen.

Lockhart's head snapped back with such sharpness that it wouldn't be surprising if the whiplash broke his neck but sadly that was not the case. Instead the man's head lolled back and he blinked in stunned surprise as he worked his jaw before trying to play the hit off with a smile. A smile that fell a bit short of the intended mark as his teeth fell out without his lips to hold them in place and the shocked expression as the blood dribbled down his chin was far more satisfying to watch as the man collapsed in a limp heap.

The crowd backed away from the angry Auror as he brushed imaginary dirt from his shoulders before turning on his heel and walking away from the unconscious Assistant Instructor to the Defense Against the Dark Arts, but as soon as James went back to his daughter's side the crowd pressed in to take pictures or cut locks of hair and otherwise grab some token mementos from the unconscious celebrity.

While James was away, Professor Riddle had arrived beside Iris and was quietly fuming as he quickly conjured a stretcher for the injured Seeker and loaded her onto it gently onto the magical construct with the aid of her teammates before personally marching her off to the castle while Dumbledore settled the spectators and witnesses to the assault on school grounds. "Man's a bloody menace, can't teach, complete narcissist, and every time a spell comes out of his mouth its hogwash! When I get my hands on him, I'm going to-"

"No need to lose your job Professor, I've taken care of it." James said as he met up with the stretcher on the grounds heading back towards the castle, Iris' friends and teammates in tow with Liatris at his side; "You should have seen it Professor, Dad laid him out with one punch!"

"James! The man is bloody famous; the whole world will know what happened here by the end of the week! What if this costs you your job at the Ministry?" Lily said quietly as she fell back from the stretcher and grabbed her husband by the arm as they followed in the wake of Iris' litter.

"To hell with my job, we have enough money to see our great-great-great grandchildren never have to work a day in their lives! The man deserved it and more for his incompetence; I'll hire a damned lawyer if I have to and bleed him for every knut he has for reckless use of magic on a minor!" James swore vehemently under his breath so only Lily could hear him; he didn't want to worry his daughters, especially Iris, she shouldn't be concerned over her parents welfare when she herself would have to endure a night of agony… again, since Harry had already been through it all once before.

"The man vanished bones with his misuse rather than heal them, if he had been even an inch further who knows what he could have done! He might have vanished her lungs, or her heart! The man is a danger so long as he is around children and he needs to be removed from this castle as quickly as possible. His exploits should go under full review, if he couldn't handle the healing of an arm how did he manage to take down werewolves or banshees? The man is a complete fraud!" James pressed on and Lily found herself nodding in agreement with his words, most assuredly her husband had come up with the excuse on the way back since all he had wanted to do to Lockhart was smash his face in but it was a pretty good excuse and she agreed with his rationalization.

As the train of people arrived in the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey took one look at who was being carried in and directed Riddle to place her in a bed near her quarters in the back of the wing. "I might as well reserve a bed for you Miss Potter, I see you too often as it is already. What's it today? A bludger knock you in the head?" The mediwitch asked playfully as Riddle placed her in the bed and she fought her way through the concerned party to Iris' bedside.

"No Madam Pomfrey, it's a bit more serious than that." Iris said as she pointed to the rubber-like appendage that used to be a very functional arm; "Dear Merlin, what is the meaning of this? This is no Quidditch injury!" It was always very strange to see the caring nurse go from personable to draconic as she rounded on those nearby to clear out and give her room to work.

"It's Lockhart's doing Poppy, he figured that he could mend a broken arm." Tom ground out angrily as he glanced over at James Potter and gave the man a small nod, "He'll be along shortly as well, it seems he might have taken a nasty tumble on the wet grass out on the pitch." Riddle supplemented, when he came out with that statement the news would take a considerably less sensational twist of the story.

"A fall will be the least of his worries, if he shows his face over here for treatment after this stunt I'll remove the bones in both his arms and see what a taste of his own medicine does to his disposition." Madam Pomfrey said as she bustled about getting out a number of potions from her cabinets and assembling them on the bedside table.

"Alright dear, fair warning; this will not taste pleasant and there is going to be more than a little discomfort. My advice to you is not to let it touch your tongue." The matron said softly as Lily smoothed back the stray hairs from Iris' face as they helped her sit up in the bed while Blaise and Draco were quick to usher everyone out of the room to give Iris and her family some privacy.

When the room was clear of everyone but the Potter's, Riddle, and the close circle of friends that the young witch had accrued in her time at Hogwarts; Iris began to slug back potions like shots, taking the nurse at her word. Nutrient potions full of essentials the body would need to regrow thirty-six bones along with pain killers and muscle relaxants before the last bottle came out, Skele-grow. The clear potion went down like a trail of fire through her throat before pulling in her stomach and spreading itself to her arm as the magic began to do its work.

"Something tells me it's going to be a long night." Iris croaked out with a grimace as she pointed at the flask of water beside the table to wash down the oily sensation the potions ha left in the back of her throat. As Riddle filled a glass of water for her he chuckled mirthlessly, "You don't even know the half of it Potter." He said as he handed it over to her and watched her drink deeply and did not notice the roll of her eyes that said quite plainly she knew what was coming all too well.

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><p>Some time after Iris had managed to fall asleep with the help of a potion, she awoke in the middle of the night to find herself surrounded by the sounds of soft slumber, breathing and light snoring emanating from the forms of her parents who were sleeping in a cot that had been laid out beside her bed. The bed itself had been enlarged sometime while she was asleep to accommodate Liatris tucked in against her side, and Hermione and Daphne who had fallen asleep with their backs against the headboard, framing the sisters in the bed.<p>

Draco and Blaise had both fallen asleep in chairs beside the bed on the left side of the bed; Draco had cleaned up sometime and returned in fresh clothes to keep her company. But all of them were soundly asleep and had not been the reason she had woken up, in fact she could not tell for certain why she had woken up exactly until a noise from the other end of the infirmary came to her and she turned her head to see the shock of silver hair that could only be Dumbledore as he shuffled into the room alongside Professor Snape, the man was carrying a large bundle in his arms wrapped in stained sheets.

Dumbledore crossed the length of the hospital wing in his pajamas and bath robe to rouse Madam Pomfrey from her own bed and urgently direct her over to the bed that Snape had deposited his bundle. She drew back the sheets and covered her mouth with a hand to suppress a scream of fright as she found the Slytherin Beater Lucian Bole, the same boy that had broken Iris' arm laying in the bed.

The boy had been mauled terribly, his clothing had been shredded and hung off of him like blood soaked rags and his body was covered in lacerations, especially across his chest where the word "GUILTY" had been carved into his flesh. His eyes were lidded and glazed over but the steady rise and fall of his chest showed that he was still alive.

"My goodness Albus, who would have done something like this! I don't know if I can help the boy, he may need to be taken to St. Mungo's!" Poppy said as quietly as she could but her words carried easily in the relative silence of the room.

"Do what you can Poppy, but we can not send him to St. Mungo's just yet, if this gets out before we have time to investigate what happened then I fear terrible things will befall Hogwarts." Dumbledore said solemnly, his words drew the rapt attention of both Snape and Pomfrey as the looked at him aghast; how could he not send such a terribly injured student to a hospital.

"If this is the means by which this Trial judges the guilty, then we need to find a way to put a stop to it before anyone else is hurt. Mister Bole is the only one who can help us with that now, do what you can for his pain and bring him out of the shock Poppy," Dumbledore insisted as Severus began to draw the blinds around the bed, but Dumbledore looked across the length of the room and his cobalt blue eyes landed on Iris as she feigned sleep and had her eyes closed to the barest of slits. "Before anyone else is attacked."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Apologies all for not updating in a while but after my finals I decided to take a break from writing for a little bit to recoup and rejuvenate myself for more epic story writing and devilish fun. To those of you who would like to know how I did in my last semester, I'll state that I walked away with a 3.35 GPA and that I'm happy with that.

As always, reviews are always appreciated and any questions you have I will gladly answer so long as they don't involve me spoiling too much. To those of who have offered translation services I thank you for the offer and assure you that I will be calling on you in the future.

Some of you might be wondering why it is I kept the rogue bludger scene since it really has no bearing for it to happen to Iris, I'll explain a little bit more about it in the next chapter but really I just wanted an excuse to give Lockhart the punishment he deserved for his incompetence that Rowling never served him. I think having James knock him out was a fair consolation to those of you who dislike the git.

**Next Chapter: **_Dueling Club_


	14. Chapter XII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Thank you all for your patience for this chapter and all your reviews.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XII**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**November 8, 1992**

Sunday morning greeted the occupants of the Hospital Wing with clear weather and a bright sunshine that left the air sticky and humid after the rain of the previous day. Likewise, Iris was greeted by the thirty regrown bones of her arm and hand that had left the appendage stiff and throbbing as ligaments and tendons reattached themselves and the nerves arranged themselves into their proper configurations.

She would not be alone in the feeling of stiffness though, seeing as Hermione and Daphne had both fallen asleep with their backs against the headboard would find both their necks aching from their heads resting against each other through the night. Draco and Blaise had fared better by sleeping in the stuffed chairs while the Potter family fared best of all, James' knack for Transfiguration had allowed for a comfortable cot and Liatris had rested comfortably in the bed beside her sister.

The presence of her friends and family bolstered her spirits and her cheer, considering how many times Harry had spent in these sterilized beds alone with nothing but his pain and thoughts just having people nearby was a consolation, but to have one's parents beside them stirred something deep in her chest and seeing her little sister sleeping peacefully beside her was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Somehow she knew that a few more of those psychological scars that had been inherited with Harry's memories and skills had been healed. Never knowing the love and care of a parent for their child or what it was like to have a sibling that worried about you; the pinpricks of the 'what if' questions and the seeds of doubts that had been planted over a lifetime of mistreatment by the only people that he knew to be blood relatives were evaporating like the morning dew outside, and that was a good feeling.

Her cheer was marred by the screened off bed across the aisle though, she already knew it was Lucian Bole and that he was there after being found by Snape the previous evening after the boy had been savagely attacked, his body had been beaten and broken; every bone in his right arm had been pulverized and he had been marked 'guilty' but whether by the Trial or by retaliatory students getting back at him for hurting the Gryffindor Seeker was still anyone's guess. What was known was that his memory had been modified, no memories of the day of his attack at all.

Of course, Iris wasn't supposed to know any of this but after he had been delivered the second year had of course kept an ear out for interesting bits of information and it wasn't like she lost any sleep over it, having you bones regrown can give anyone a restless night, might as well make use of the time rather than stare at the ceiling like a vegetable.

Still, it was more than a little disconcerting to know that for whatever reason the person who had broken her arm was likewise in the infirmary with much more severe injuries than she had; and she couldn't help but think of serpentine voice from the corridor that had wanted her as a trophy or a pet. If someone hurt your pet and ruined your trophy you might be more than a little peeved at them, but the ferocity behind what happened to Bole was more than just being upset; there was fury there and perhaps a desire to inflict pain.

The thought made her shiver because the implication existed that anyone who caused her harm might end up on feather bed beside Bole or on metal platter in St. Mungo's morgue. She would have to keep a close watch on her enemies, as much as she disliked Pancy and her gang there wasn't enough animosity there to want the girl carved up like a holiday roast.

What worried her more was keeping a close eye on friends, those who were closest to her were likewise the most likely to hurt her, the sting of hurt and betrayal on the pitch yesterday that had driven Iris to catch the Snitch against Slytherin had not been feigned or imagined, if the creature was indeed attacking those that hurt her then her friends could easily be attacked if it misconstrued her reactions or somehow could sense her emotions.

The implication was enough to twist her stomach into knots but her train of thought was interrupted as Madam Pomfrey entered the ward and noticed Iris was awake, and once she starting checking Iris' arm it was only a matter of time until the other woke up. Her parents were the first to snap into alertness, James in particular with his Auror training had hair trigger reflexes and Lily wasn't far off that mark either.

After them it was just a mishmash of yawns, grunts, and stretches as everyone was roused into consciousness; except for Daphne, she was still snoring lightly when Draco poked her in the ribs and got a lazy backhand to the eye for his trouble as the girl jerked away and nearly tumbled from the bed. Madam Pomfrey gave the two of them a sharp look of reprimand that Daphne colored at though Draco looked about ready to begin smoldering like his namesake as he held a hand to his eye indignantly.

Everyone chuckled a bit at the interplay as Pomfrey nodded satisfactorily at the progress and handed Iris a stress ball to squeeze with her right hand as she laid out a bowl of porridge for the girl to eat, "If the rest of you want breakfast you'd best be off to the Great Hall." The woman said tersely as she ventured to the other side of the room and slipped around the tall blinds that hid the only other occupied bed from view.

Blaise of course took instant notice of that, "There wasn't anybody else here yesterday when we came in, who did they bring in since then?" the Italian asked curiously as he leveled his amber gaze at the mystery as though it would solve itself at his whim, considering how intense his gaze was Iris wouldn't be surprised if the screen leapt to the side to get out of his line of sight.

"Lucian Bole, seems he had a foul encounter with the stairs last night though some believe he was aided by some very ardent Gryffindor fans." The answering voice was as always smooth and cultured as Professor Riddle walked into the infirmary in his casual attire of pressed black slacks and a slightly wrinkled white shirt that suggested he his morning had been a little less leisurely than he liked.

As his shoes clicked against the polished tile floors, the eye was drawn to the bag in his right hand that was swinging in counterpoint to his step and the rolled up newspaper in his left, his long black hair was loose today and tumbled casually about his shoulders in lazy waves with shorter locks of hair framing his face neatly.

He set the bag down on the bed beside Iris' own and let it flop open revealing plates of food neatly laid out with utensils and condiments, "Courtesy of the kitchen, it seems some of you were absent from bed check last night so they figured you weren't likely to head down for breakfast." Riddle supplied as Iris' attendants helped themselves to the food while she continued to eat the porridge that was provided for her, neatly eating with her left hand.

Riddle passed the paper to James wordlessly as he made his way to his student's bedside and watched her exercising her hand and eating with the other, "Interesting, I never noticed you were ambidextrous. With a rare talent like that, I hope you aren't letting it go to waste."

"If that's an offer, I'll take you up on it Professor." Iris said with a playful smile as she twirled her spoon deftly between the fingers of her left hand; Riddle looked at her carefully for a moment as he considering something but eventually he nodded, "I suppose I could teach you a few things to utilize your ability; but if I have to work more than so will you." He stated as a smirk turned up the corner of his lip and Iris could only wonder at the tortures he was thinking of before their conversation was interrupted by James' bark of laughter drew everyone's attention.

The Auror turned the paper around so everyone could see the picture of Lockhart lying on his back on the Quidditch pitch with his hair cut to ruins by admirers while his eyes fluttered to consciousness and he gave a goofy toothless smile for the camera that had probably come as a natural reaction by now. The caption under the photo read, "Honorary Defense League member done in by wet grass." Iris laughed outright at that as did most of her friends though Hermione looked torn between laughing and being upset over the picture.

"There's not a single mention about me or Iris in the whole article! It's not even first page news, how did you guys manage this?" James asked the professor with the afterglow of his mirth still keeping a smile on his face.

"Hogwarts has excellent Public Relations; would you believe it that the Board of Directors hold quite a bit of sway with the Daily Prophet?" Riddle replied rhetorically with a smirk on his face, "The Board is also willing to set aside a small settlement if you keep Hogwarts out of the courts if you decide to file suit against Lockhart." The Professor stated as he sat down on the edge of Iris' bed while a thoughtful silence descended upon the assembled party.

"A settlement, eh? Sounds more like a bribe to me." James said contemptuously at the prospect but Lily swatted him on the arm gently while she shook her head, "If you try to put the school itself on trial the Board will bury us in paperwork, considering that just about everyone in the United Kingdom's wizarding community came out of this school there's going to be serious backlash. That's before you even factor in what Dumbledore will do to protect the school, he loves this place more than anything, he'd never forgive us!"

"She right you know, what you're being offered is generous even; considering that you did attack a teacher despite his gross incompetence is grounds enough for a countersuit, it'd be dismissed in the end but not until every shred of credibility you have is gone to the wind and you find yourself riding a desk in the mail room of the DMLE until you retire." Riddle shared, the conversation having long since escalated well beyond light breakfast conversation but political maneuvering was the bread and butter for the pureblood society that still held the upper echelon of power.

"If you take the settlement and file against Lockhart alone then Hogwarts will move to isolate itself from an incompetent instructor; they'll shield your credibility against Lockhart's lawyers and do to them what they would otherwise do to you. Lockhart will end up not only sacked but bankrupt holding a firm in retainer during the proceedings and then he'll lose whatever he has left to you while the school polishes away his assets and drains whatever he stashed away on the grounds of violation of his employment contract by assaulting a student." Daphne cut into the conversation after wiping the crumbs from breakfast from her mouth with a napkin, the adults blinked in surprise at hearing the young voice join the conversation but whether it was surprise over actually hearing her or the sound conclusions she had drawn.

"It seems I'm outplayed from the start, I'll take the… settlement." James said the word with obvious discomfort, as if his mouth felt slimy just from uttering it but Lily patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, to which the man laced his fingers with hers and kissed the back of her hand lovingly.

"While I'm happy to learn that the git is going to pay for his idiocy, but I'm more interested in how he got the opportunity. Has anyone figured out how the Bludger was tampered with?" Iris interjected, drawing attention away from the married couples display of affection.

The question definitely cut through to the heart of the matter and everyone was suddenly very interested in what Riddle had to say on that matter, but the attention of a few students (and former students) didn't even faze him in the slightest.

"Officially, the whole thing is still under investigation; staff are testing the ball now for what spell was used and who the caster was. Unofficially, the other teachers have turned up zilch; whoever did the deed covered their trace exceptionally well which in itself hints at a skilled and learned individual that narrows the investigation to just about every above average student sixth year and up." The professor said with a shrug as he feigned indifference over the matter, he was deeply troubled by the incident.

Tom didn't like it when the situation wasn't completely in his control and the concept of having a new player in the game put him ill at ease, what was worse was that he was one of the teachers that evaluated the rogue Bludger and had pulled every trace off the sphere that he could; every Quidditch captain, every Beater and player that had hit or been hit by the ball, Madam Hooch, and the signature of every house-elf that had cleaned the ball or polished the case that contained it. Nothing out of the ordinary what so ever.

"A hundred students isn't exactly a small list to go through, especially considering how the use of Veritaserum is restricted from use on a minor." Lily replied unhappily as she looked over at her daughter with a worried expression on her face, no doubt she didn't like the fact that her eldest child had been attacked over a stupid game, considering the age of the possible suspects she could easily see some kid cursing the ball so that he could turn a profit by betting on the outcome of the match.

She also knew that telling her daughter to quit the team would be the equivalent of asking the girl to remove her left leg; she had seen her daughter play more than once before and when that girl was on a broom it was like nothing else in the world mattered, it was complete escape and total rapture all at once. That kind of emotion would never be surrendered willingly, and removing her from the school to keep her safe would be to remove her from all her friends and the best education she could be provided; doing that would break the girl's heart and a mother shouldn't do that until every other possibility was retired.

"Indeed, but there are other means by which tongues can be loosened and students have never been renown for keeping tightlipped about their secrets, it'll come out eventually. In any case, I have work to return to and new lessons to plan." Riddle said by means of excusing himself as he waved his wand over the cloth that he had brought with him since everyone had sated themselves on the food and magicked it back to the kitchens before striding from the room, every step graceful and somehow powerful.

"Are the girls still swooning over him whenever he goes into a room chaps?" James directed his question to Blaise and Draco when the man in question had turned the corner, a question to which both boys nodded their heads with exaggerated sighs and the girls tittering with mirth while James just nodded sagely and left Lily outright laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**December 14, 1992**

In the intervening month at Hogwarts, the school had come to life with rumors of Lucian Bole having been attacked by everything from a band of raging Gryffindors to being trampled on by a centaur dressed up in drag and upset that the Slytherin Beater had blown off their date to play a game of poker with some goblins. Whatever your chosen story, the common theme had the boy laid up in the Hospital Wing as his injuries recovered naturally to prevent undue stress from healing too much too quickly.

What no one but Iris and a few select individuals knew was that the boy's wounds were such that no amount of magic or time had seen any progress in healing beyond the superficial scabbing to prevent the boy from dying of blood loss, the injuries themselves were just as raw as the day he got them and he was kept in a constant drugged state just to keep him sane from the constant pain he was in and to prevent him from moving for fear that he would reopen the wounds. The only time Madam Pomfrey had failed to give him the next dose of potion on time, the boy had tried to use the loo and managed to reopen every laceration; and whatever was keeping him from healing had made it so he bled copiously from even the most minor of his injuries.

The only reason why Iris even knew this information was on account of Professor Riddle, after her the conversation they had shared in the infirmary the DADA instructor had managed to claim almost every night she had free from Quidditch practice to teach her the full extent of what being ambidextrous in the wizarding world could mean and in the process had grown to be something more of a personal tutor.

More than that though, he had been in the hallway on Halloween and he had heard the voice that had accompanied the message on the wall; he knew that whatever had attacked Bole had a vested interested in her and he was set on giving her an edge if it decided to tangle with her.

What she had learned so far was that what was true for Muggles was quite the same for the wizarding world; only about ten percent of people were left handed so by default most spells were developed by right handed wizards. For the most part this was all fine and dandy, but when you started to move into the more sensitive and powerful spells, certain steps had to be observed for left handed use. The heart of magic was forcing the raw energy of the user into a controlled outlet to produce a desired outcome and to that effect motions, incantations, and foci were the tools used provide the raw energy an ordered outlet.

For the most part, all it meant was that a left handed user had to reverse the motions; swishing the wand from right to left rather than left to right; but in other spells it meant learning the entire movement backwards or an entirely new movement to get the desired effect with a spell. Magic was rather fickle that way, if you didn't give it precise instructions it would misinterpret the desired effect and you could end with a glass vase out of a turnip or glass hand that resembled a turnip.

But the short of it was, left handed magic was different from casting spells right handed; thankfully, any instructor that got their Mastery in their field had to prove a sufficient competency with off-hand spell casting and because Hogwarts staff (with a few exceptions) were exceptionally experienced instructors, left handed students never suffered in their education, but for Iris it meant relearning the same spells in new patterns and keeping everything straight in her mind so she didn't accidently use a left handed movement when casting with her right hand.

Spells that she had inherited mastery from Harry and were ingrained in her muscle memory were now foreign and unwieldy as she tasked her mind to master the same spells with new methods of use. It was not an easy feat, and while her teacher was perhaps the only wizard in the world who had full mastery of every spell he knew with both hands it did not translate to instant success. She spent hours rehearsing the same motions and casting the same spells, and while she invariably succeeded each time it was not without a great deal of practice and patience.

"It's no wonder that it took an entire store to find a wand for you, you're about as uncommon a witch as there is. I've never had a pupil that learned as quickly as you do or was more naturally inclined to magic." Riddle commented during their most recent training session as they were tidying up the warded workroom that the instructor had set up in his apartments so they could practice without worrying about destroying any classrooms.

"Since I know you're going home over the holidays, you should pay a visit to the old wand maker and see what he can do for outfitting you with a second wand for your left hand. It can prove useful for a duelist to carry a backup; Mad Eye Moody always preached that to his trainees."

"I'll see if I can manage a visit then, I don't even know if he'll be open during winter break; most of his customers come during the summer after all." Iris replied as she shouldered her bag and followed the professor out of the workroom and out into his private study, where the man grabbed a leather bound book from his desk before they slipped out into the dank and poorly illuminated corridors of the castle's dungeons.

"For the most part yes, the majority of his patrons come during the summer and he gets a healthy check from the Ministry who subsidize the wands of young witches and wizards but wands break all the time or get stolen or lost. There's a steady stream of customers during the year looking for replacements or mending but you'll be one of the few witches in the world who'll have two because you can actually use two." The man informed her as they continued towards the Entrance Hall and an appreciable din could be heard as students milled about in large numbers.

Iris checked her watch to see that it was nearly eight o'clock in the evening, dinner had been over for nearly an hour and they had finished their session early today which suddenly struck her as odd until she remembered what her friends had been discussing at dinner while she was looking over her notes from her private lessons, there was to be a Dueling Club meeting that they were quite excited over.

After the rumors about Bole, it wasn't surprising that the idea had gained such traction since no one wanted to be victimized like that and a session on practical defense against an assailant was too good an opportunity to miss; especially if it meant being sanctioned to cast spells at another student who may or may not know about some kind of tension that existed.

As the pair of them stepped into the room, Iris could see that the dining hall had been rearranged such that a single dueling stage ran through the center of the room while large area rugs had been laid down on either side of it, prodding it with a tendril of magic was all it took to confirm that the carpets had been enchanted with very powerful cushioning charms; falling or getting blasted onto your arse was unlikely to leave a bruise by the looks of it.

The only thing more dramatic looking then the dueling stage bathed in the lights of a hundred candles beneath the black velvet of the night sky was Gilderoy Lockhart, his hair was once more its array of thick golden locks and his immaculate too bright smile had been restored though if one were to look closely, it was still possible to see the slightly enflamed gums as Madam Pomfrey had insisted the only way to regrow his teeth properly was to remove those that were left and grow a whole new mouthful.

She would have to remember to send the mediwitch a card over the break and maybe a nice bottle of wine along with her sentiments. The thought put a slight smile on her face as the raven haired witch joined her friends and sibling at the side of the stage; the lot of them looked eager to get underway, Pollux most of all. Undoubtedly Sirius had given the boy some instruction in how to fight and knowing that particular Marauder, it would not have been a lesson in fighting fair.

It was something that Aurors were instilled with during their training period; honorable combat was nonexistent in the real world where a duel meant your life was on the line. If you have to fight, hold all the cards; there was no point in a fair and honorable duel if it meant you were leaving in a pine box. Fight to survive, fight to win, be as ruthless as possible and you just might walk away or at the least live to fight another day.

"Gather round! Gather round! Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent…" Lockhart smiled at the crowd of assembled students which caused a mixed return of girlish laughter or snorts of derision as people recalled the goofy smile from the previous month. The latter of the too reactions dampened the celebrity's mood slightly as he straightened and cleared his throat, casting a dirty look at Iris out of the corner of his eye since the Potter family had just served him papers with a legal proceeding to begin after the winter vacation.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has graciously given me permission to start this dueling club, to train you all in case there is ever a need to defend yourselves as I have done on countless occasions." The man flashed another bright smile at the audience as he paused, artfully keeping his gaze sweeping over the crowd so that it seemed he made eye contact with everyone before he resumed.

"Allow me to introduce my associate, Professor Riddle, former International Dueling Champion and your very own Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Between us we have over fifty years of experience in dueling so have no fear; we are both consummate professionals." Lockhart assured everyone as the Deputy Headmaster strode onto the stage as he rolled back the sleeves of his silken white shirt, his robes were folding themselves neatly at the top of the steps that he had just ascended.

Lockhart himself was dressed in a thick doublet of thread-of-gold with the front of his chest quartered with the Hogwarts crest and his own coat of arms, thus representing his current sponsor and himself in keeping with the traditional rules of the sport. As the blonde haired man looked over his opponent he schooled his face into genial expression while he felt a deep hatred for the man standing across from him.

'What an absolute wretch of a man! All that power at his disposal, the minds of malleable simpletons at his fingertips and he satisfies himself with being a teacher in the shadow of Dumbledore! Fool! Does he think I don't know it was him who turned the Board of Directors against me! That I don't know it was him that went to the blasted Potters and gave them the school's backing! When I finish humiliating him here, I'll strip him of his position and his job, then I'll tear down Dumbledore and rule this castle like the king I should be!'

The man couldn't help the nasty smirk that curled his lip as he thought of what he was going to do as he met the onyx gaze of his opponent and just barely made out the smoldering garnet that was blossoming in those eyes as a much more malevolent smile crept onto Riddle's face. They bowed to each other without taking their eyes off one another, Riddle kept his simple while Lockhart performed his with a flourish.

Righting themselves, both men leveled their wands at the other as if they were swords and took up what might have been fencing positions, "As you can see we have both adopted the accepted combat position by the International Dueling Federation, on the count of three we will open up with our first spells with the intention of disarming the other."

Lockhart wondered just how realistic that statement was considering the look that Riddle was giving him and he found himself with a sudden pang of dread worming its way through his gut; after all Riddle was still a formidable opponent even if he was in his sixties. He had only lost his championship title since he had been occupied in the Wizarding War a decade ago and had been unable to compete; he had never actually been defeated in combat. So perhaps this wasn't the wisest of decisions, still he was already committed; he could not back out now.

"_Tempus Sensit" _Riddle sent the spell up into the air, a yellow orb that pulsed in time with some invisible clock arm until it flared green and released a bell like chime that signaled the start of the duel.

Lockhart slashed his wand over his head and directed it at his opponent as he opened his mouth to summon his spell but what he was about to say was lost as a result of a tremendous force slamming into his chest and throwing him clear from the stage and into the stone wall behind what should have been the Head Table. The impact left him breathless and dazed for a moment but he had managed to keep a hold of his wand.

Rising from the floor he brandished his wand for all to see before he looked at Riddle's imperious smirk and the look of contempt in his eyes, maintaining his veneer of classy sophistication the blonde wizard lunged forward with an, _"Expelliarmus!" _

The jolt of magic sailed through the air like a flaming lance that crashed against an invisible wall of some kind mere feet before hitting Riddle, the spell flared against the shield and swelled as it spread across the surface; defining its edges and contours for just a moment before faltering and leaving nothing but a spot in the vision as a remainder of its existence.

Riddle though, he hadn't so much as batted an eyelash at the counterattack and instead stood rather relaxed atop the stage with his wand held in a loose and lazy fashion that made the professor look almost reluctant to attack the celebrity but his intensely hateful stare didn't waver from Lockhart's and the man realized that he was staring into the face of certain death as a titanic wave collided into his side and he was flung sideways through the air and deposited in a corner of the room.

All of that done by an almost imperceptible flick of a wand and a silent incantation, as he gathered his feet under him and rose to a kneeling position Gilderoy realized that he didn't have a chance of overwhelming this opponent with brute force. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he fights, and the Lord Slytherin was plain as day in that moment; overwhelmingly powerful with a violent streak in him, all of it hidden behind guile and ruses of simple desires.

He wasn't satisfied with what he had, wouldn't be until he had everything under his thumb; which meant that his desires directly conflicted with Lockhart's own interests. As successful as he was as an author, he had no real power or ability to influence those in power; for that he needed powerful friends or a position to fabricate powerful friends. A strategy for conquest was already forming in his mind as the celebrity rose to his feet and dusted himself off.

"I yield to you Professor Riddle, as you can see students; your Deputy Headmaster is still quite the skilled duelist though let me remind you that sport combat and actual combat are entirely different beasts. But enough demonstrating, let's pair up and get underway; we'll need to sort out just who skilled you all are and arrange you into appropriate Leagues. Professor Riddle, will you be so kind as to assist me?" Lockhart stated with an easy smile on his face as he simultaneously saved face and took charge of the situation, revealing a bit himself to those who were observant; schemers were most dangerous when they knew how to manipulate the situation. Lockhart was one such spider.

Tom didn't bother to hide his smug satisfaction at forcing the wizard to submit though he did regret not giving the man something more than some nasty bruises, after all the man did destroy his classroom and had injured his apprentice and caused her suffering. And after that little peek into the man's mind when they had matched stares, it was entirely possible that the worm was completely capable of setting that Bludger after Iris if only to stroke his own ego but there were definite machinations going on behind those cornflower blue eyes and that did not appeal to his tastes at all.

But while the information he had gathered was revealing he had other concerns, like testing just how skilled his apprentice was; he knew she was immensely powerful, but was there any skill behind that strength? His opponents wouldn't fall beneath the weight of a club, but the prick of a rapier that pierced the chinks of their armor.

While Lockhart was pairing students up on his end of the hall, Riddle dropped off the platform and quickly began to pair students based on relative power and skill that he had observed over years or months in the case of the first years but he also made sure that no one was paired with a close friend.

He almost felt bad when he sent Hermione against Millicent Bullstrode, not because he feared for the bushy haired brunette but because he knew that Bullstrode didn't stand a chance against her, not that anyone would save for her friends but that would never give him any good measure for her abilities. Malfoy was eager to take on Weasley and Blaise made for good opponent against Longbottom, Greengrass and Brown were likewise a good match as were Liatris and Ginny. But who could he pit against Iris?

No one in her year had her magical strength and her intellect was top of the year besides Granger and Malfoy, Greengrass and Zabini were only a half-step behind those three as it was; so that left an older student. A quick scan of the room produced a likely opponent, "Chang! You're with Potter here!" He called out as the Third Year emerged from the throng and looked at her opponent curiously, she started to open her mouth to make a comment but a hard stare from the DADA instructor shut her mouth with a click. He would keep an eye out on his Apprentice and her little coven.

Iris stared at Riddle's retreating back with a look of stunned surprise at him pitting her against and older student but then a part of her brain kicked in that reminded her that at one point this pretty Asian girl had learned from Harry how to fight and Harry was a part of her now; this chick didn't have legs to stand on in a duel against her, especially since Iris caught her staring at Tom's arse as he walked away.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called from up on the stage once more as Riddle moved to join him, "And bow!"

Iris met Chang's eyes and gave her a shallow bow without ever taking her gaze off of her opponent before she slipped into a combat stance, her left side forward with her right side back; her wand was held in a relaxed grip in her left hand whereas Cho had her wand in white knuckled death grip.

"Wands at the ready! At the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent. Disarm only!" Lockhart emphasized that last point as he gave a sidelong glance at Riddle beside him, the DADA instructor sporting a slight smirk as he thought of all the ways he could 'disarm' Lockhart. "One… Two… Three!"

The room descended into abject chaos as spells went sailing from every wand, but in that same moment it was as if a filter had dropped over the girl's dilating eye; as order and familiarity emerged from the mess. Her brain was kicking out adrenaline and her nervous system was moving into overdrive as electric messages began to shoot through her body, priming her for action. Her heartbeat surged and began pumping oxygen rich blood throughout her to stoke her muscles and tissues as her lungs began processing air like a marathoner; digestion came to a crawl while blood pressure spiked and her muscles were flushed with oxygen.

By the time Cho was capable of casting a spell, Iris was a completely different person since Harry had stepped into the foreground; emerald eyes tracked the silvery jet of the opponent's Tickling Charm which prompted the body to sidestep out of the way of the spell while simultaneously moving forward. Two bounding steps forward to close the distance caused Chang to take a step back and sent her next spell wide but the spell that emerged from the holly wand was precise.

"_Nonfortitudo Manu!"_ Sent a plume of violet magic straight into the breast of the older girl and such was the power of the caster that not only did Cho's hand go lax but both of her arms went into total listlessness as the Jelly-Fingers Jinx, an infamous spell amongst Quidditch players; especially amongst Seekers and Beaters, caused her muscles to relax and flop uselessly at her side while her wand dropped to the floor from unclenching fingers.

Amidst a room full of combating students, Iris had finished her duel quickly and efficiently and knowing the potency of her spell work she knew she could write off Cho as an adversary at the moment; though she would like to send the girl a more stinging hex it would be unseemly to do so, it would likewise be damning as people would question how Iris could stick the girl to the ceiling by her nose as a second year.

Still it provided her the opportunity to see how her friends were faring in their own duels along with the rest of the school that had turned out to charm and jinx and hex each other into knots and sniveling fonts of mucus as several of the older students had managed to make of their opponents.

Pollux had taken a page out of his father's strategy book on dueling and made show of putting Colin Creevy in a Full Body Bind; sending a jet of poisonous green sparks towards the boy's camera, which laid a few feet away against the stage and sent the boy scrambling to defend it. Turned out to be all the distraction the pureblood wizard needed to lock the photographing fanboy completely rigid and falling face first into the (thankfully) enchanted carpet.

Liatris had not fared nearly so well as her mischievous cohort and was protecting her face from the monstrous bats that were rearing from her nostrils and trying to buffeting her face with wings and teeth made from her own bogies; apparently Ginny was still quite skilled at that particular hex. It seemed however that the Weasley girl had gotten hers as well since she was sprawled completely unconscious on the floor with her face looking slightly irritated from taking a stunner right on the nose.

Draco had finally gotten his duel with Ron was laughing of his own volition this time around as the redheaded boy was dancing an uncontrollable jig and simultaneously flapping his arm and imitating a chicken, undoubtedly the result of some spell that had backfired from his own broken wand. All the while his face flushing crimson from embarrassment and the color was slowly creeping up his cheeks and into his hairline.

Hermione at least had the decency not to laugh while her opponent was down but she certainly looked quite pleased with herself, and as well she should considering that the hulking Bullstrode, for all her brawn was hanging upside down in the air while the brunette picked up the girl's wand from off the floor where it had fallen after its owner found themselves suddenly inverted. "Set me down, this instant! And give me back my wand, you filthy Mudblood!" the boorish witch demanded from her compromising position as she struggled to hold her skirt in place while her robes were hanging about her face.

Hermione was more than happy to oblige the girl's demand, especially after her rude comment and after lifting her a few feet higher into the air, she cancelled the spell and watched as Millicent tumbled gracelessly through the air and landed on the flat of her back, driving the air from her and leaving her gaping like a fish as she attempted to suck air, leaving the intelligent brunette looking smug and satisfied as she held both her own and her opponent's wands.

Daphne and Lavender were still in the midst of duking it out, neither girl seemed overly interested in defeating their opponent by conventional means seeing as how Daphne was attired in a rather frilly and puffy pink princess dress while Lavender was wearing clown clothes and was sporting a heavy mask of freakish cosmetics. Both were hurling more insults then actual spells, each supposing the other would snap from the extreme makeover first.

Of all of them, it seemed the only to have not won or wasn't still fighting their duel was Blaise; the Italian was cradling his right arm tightly as blood dripped from his elbow onto the carpet from a nasty gash at the seam of his shoulder. Even from halfway across the room, Iris could tell the injury was severe and without even a backwards glance at Cho's fuming face while she demanded to be set to rights, the raven haired witch darted through the battlefield that the Great Hall had become.

The question that would linger in the memories of those in attendance that day was whether the young girl had dodged the spells of every active duel she ran through or if the spells themselves had bent away from her since it appeared that she paid no heed to the dangers around her, nothing mattered save coming to the aid of one of her closest friends.

Neville was just smirking at his opponent, completely at ease as with himself and utterly uncaring that the golden eyed boy was bleeding from the wound he had given him. "What the hell is your problem Longbottom! The rules were to disarm only!" Blaise shouted as she arrived at her friend's side; he tried to wave her off of him but the cringe he gave when he tried to move his arm was enough of a reaction to give her justification for staring him into submission.

She ripped away the remainder of his shirt sleeve to see that the gash was worse than she had expected, deep and clean as though it had been made by some exceedingly sharp blade. "The hell are you playing at Neville! You nearly took his arm off!" Iris questioned the boy as she used the torn sleeve to staunch the wound, "Cazzo, che fa male!" Blaise hissed through clenched teeth as she applied pressure.

"No problem at all mon cheri, the spell was completely accidental… I don't even know what I said to be honest." The boy replied softly, his voice nearly apologetic but there was an undercurrent of amusement directed at her, as though he found her reaction humorous somehow but as she glanced up at him while she was applying pressure to the wound she found that he was splitting his attention between her and the blood soaking into the rug all the while his expression of interest didn't waver, finding both the sanguine events equally fascinating.

The look in his eye sent a shiver of repulsion down her spine and she dearly wanted to show him a bit of "accidental" magic herself, flaying him alive might just do the trick but before her protective urge could overwhelm her good sense Riddle and Lockhart had descended upon them.

Gilderoy made his way towards Blaise's side with his wand drawn and an excited look on his face but the death glares he was receiving from the children might have had an effect on dissuading him since he turned away and redirect himself towards Neville instead; leaving the injured student in the care of Professor Riddle.

"Nasty cut you have there Zabini, did you catch what spell he was using?" Riddle asked quietly as he drew his wand and wordlessly used a charm that not only staunched the blood but caused the flesh to knit back together from the inside out until only the faintest of red lines was left to mar the Italian's tan olive skin.

"Unfortunately not, all I saw was the light of the spell and I jumped to avoid it; I guess I didn't move fast enough." Blaise responded as he mentally berated himself for letting Neville get the edge on him but Riddle simply shook his head, "I'm surprised you managed to dodge it at all; Neville was casting from the start, no doubt his friends at the Ministry gave him a bit more dueling training then is really warranted for a second year. I'd bet that Moody was in on it too, can't defend against a dark wizard unless you can think like one; let that be a lesson to the both of you. In a real world situation, fight to win; don't ever fight fair, stack the deck in your favor."

"Well, now that this has been taken care of; I suppose that it'd be a tad more prudent to teach you all to defend yourselves rather than have you all dancing about trying to avoid a spell!" Lockhart shouted over the voices of the crowd and he smiled pleasantly once everyone's attention was turned back to him but a glance at Riddle's piercing eyes sobered him.

"Ahem, yes, well… let's see; Miss Potter, erm Iris Potter, sorry my dear." Gilderoy corrected himself as Liatris turned towards the direction of her name being called while one of the older students was countering the hex that Ginny had placed on her. "And I suppose Mister Lo-"

"I would not think that a prudent decision, Gilderoy; it would seem that Longbottom still has a ways to go before he can entrusted to not break the rules. I would suggest Mister Malfoy as a more apt pupil for a demonstration." Tom cut in with a scathing look though his voice never rose louder than a conversational level it was heard clearly through the room and hushed just about everyone in the room.

Draco for his part was rather surprised to be called out since he was still wiping the tears away from laughing so hard at Ron, the redhead had the misfortune to find himself being tended to by his brothers; they quite plainly disliked anything remotely linked to a Malfoy that had to give the platinum blonde credit for leaving their brother a clucking dancer; it would probably make a good prank when they worked out how to do it.

But even as Draco was walking towards them, Iris raised her hand and the boy who she affectionately referred to as her cousin paused in midstride; "I'll duel Neville, professor." The witch said flatly as she stared the child celebrity, the brunette returned her gaze with an unreadable expression and a sly smile; his hands tucked into his pockets, though his gold bracelet was bunched around his forearm and gleamed wickedly as it seemed to drink in the light of the candles.

Riddle looked at the raven haired witch crossly, "Revenge is a dish best served cold Iris, anger will drive you to making mistakes. Besides the boy's already injured one student, what's to say he won't do it again to you?" The professor said quietly though by this point most of the people in the room had already turned to watch the situation unfold and heard Iris call out the Boy Who Lived for a duel.

"This isn't about revenge Professor, besides he couldn't hurt me; he wouldn't if he could though." Iris replied in an equally soft tone of voice so none but the man and Blaise could hear what she said even as she ascended the steps to the dueling platform and took the position that the DADA instructor had held when he made a fool of Lockhart.

The author was whispering into Neville's ear as the pair walked towards the dueling platform but for all the hot air that the man was spewing it seemed his efforts to concoct a stratagem were wasted since his audience didn't seem to pay him any mind, he paid more attention to rotating the red gold jewelry on his wrist as he took the dueling stage.

"Now remember Neville, when she casts a spell do exactly as I described to defend against it and you'll be fine." Lockhart said more loudly than was really necessary but the students that had yet to be disillusioned to the man's fraudulence, so most everybody save the Gryffindors that were close to Iris and the Slytherins that just didn't care for anything that had to do with a Muggleborn halfwit.

"Now at the count of three, you may begin," Lockhart began as he stepped in between the two students, walking past Iris on the way off the platform he paused for a moment as he considered saying something but decided against it as he went past. "Alright then, one… two… th-"

Before the assistant professor even managed to finish the count both students were whirling into action, crimson disarming charms raced across the stage and painted the hall with the intensity of their glare. The witch tapped her wand against her forearm as she nimbly twisted away from the charm and could feel the warmth of her magic taking shape and forming into the familiar buckler while Neville shouted "Protego!" for all to hear, and took the full brunt of the spell head on.

The play of crimson on the boy's silvery blue shield was interesting to watch but Iris was more interested in finding out just how good he was as a duelist. Riposting quickly she sent two Jelly Finger Jinxes his way, consciously bending the spells out and back, as a parabola to strike around the shield he was using. The technique was a bit more advanced then she should be using but then again, everyone knew that she was top of her class and a talented witch so what else was new when it came to her impressing them all with her abilities.

Neville on the other hand had never been more than average at his best and underperforming as his average, save for herbology, but because of his celebrity status most attributed it to him being lazy then from ineptness. Still, it was surprising to see the boy turn his shield to catch one of the incoming violet jets of light and then roll the shield across his body to protect his exposed side in the manner one would spin their umbrella in play.

That was not a level of skill that sprung up over a summer of dueling practice unless the teacher was exceptionally good at their job and the student was exceptionally gifted, which had already been established as untrue. How then had he come upon such a degree of skill?

As rusty as she was from not practicing her dueling in so long, the witch had reflexes honed every week in Quidditch practice and a vault of techniques, stratagem, and skill from a war hero; there should be no way the boy on the stage should have still been standing unless Dumbledore had taken up permanent residence in the boy's head. But before Iris could even open her eyes to Gaze she could see that his watery brown eyes were not tinged with the headmaster's baby blues but a familiar shade of ultramarine.

And as surprising as that revelation was, when she did begin to Gaze and the world descended into shades of orange with neon green channels of magic running through just about everyone in the Great Hall, Neville's magic was mixed between that familiar shade of jade and an angry midnight indigo that coursed through his left arm and was slowly spreading out across him so that it appeared that a swath of his upper chest and neck were being consumed by the foreign and tainted magic. She could see an eddy forming in his torso and racing up into his right arm and down to his hand where it flashed and burst from the end of his wand.

In this state, dueling wasn't even a challenge; she could tell every move that was going to be made from inception to release and had her shield in place to defend herself; and for the first time she turn her Gaze on her own flesh. Her shield was vivid cobalt with veins of gold running through it and back into her own arm where the colors pulsed in time with her heartbeat; working in complete harmony as the trifecta of her being. But beneath all that brilliance was a thread of dark ruby that coursed through her, buried beneath her magic and pulsing in time with someone else's heartbeat; the very sight of it filled her with revulsion.

Disgusted and confused, Iris was not prepared for the Banishing spell that slammed into her shield and flung her backwards through the air, causing her to come down hard on her back and shoulder and while she managed to use the momentum to roll backwards it was not without some deal of pain. Gritting her teeth, she rose to her feet and looked at the boy who was smirking ever so slightly with smug satisfaction at having gotten a hit on her, his brown and ultramarine eyes glittering.

'Well to hell with that!' Iris thought to herself as she raised her wand and took a leaf out of another playbook, "Sepernsortia!" As she swung her wand at the boy there was a flash of black light from the end of her wand as a thick and heavy bodied serpent was conjured into existence and flew through the air to land at Neville's feet.

Black with red markings running down the length of its body and culminating in a pointed spade like tail, the creature was at least twelve feet long and entirely nightmarish; as well it should be since it had come from Iris' imagination. Rearing up, the snake struck out and clamped its jaws down on the boy's wrist and used its immense musculature and weight to drag Neville to his knees and cry out in pain under its crushing bite, so surprised was he by the attack that he dropped his wand to pry the snake away from his arm.

Iris walked across the length of the dueling platform, utterly unperturbed by her creation throwing its coils around its victim and constricting steadily around him while the students watched in horrified fascination, even Gilderoy was shocked by the display. Squatting down and rocking on her heels, the witch plucked up Neville's wand making sure everyone saw her tuck her own into her sleeve before rising. Stepping over to Neville, she looked into the boy's eyes and watched as he glanced from serpent to girl to discover they shared the same piercing emerald eyes and the honest terror as the ultramarine drained from his orbs as the snake continued to constrict around him with his every exhalation.

She smirked down at him for a moment before rubbing the scales behind the snake's head; the stygian serpent loosed its coils and gathered its body before releasing its bite, revealing two rows of numerous needle-like puncture wounds. Walking back across the platform, she dropped his wand onto the middle of the stage to make it a point that she had disarmed him before stopping where she had begun the duel. The snake wrapped itself around her protectively, its head slung over her shoulder and across her chest so that she could continue stroking its scales.

"Ahem, yes; quite the performance I should say quite an ingenious use of the Snake Conjuring Charm to strike behind the boy's shield and disarm the boy, Miss Potter." Lockhart declared after finding his voice and climbing back onto the platform to pick up the dropped wand and return it to its owner who was just now clambering back onto his feet and doing his best to look utterly nonchalant though he kept glancing between Iris and the snake that had yet to be banished yet.

"I think that'll be all for tonight everyone! Return to your dormitories if you'll please!" Lockhart declared over the still mostly shocked students, snapping them out of their reverie and getting them to clear out of the Great Hall though many of them were leaving well having hushed conversations and glancing furtively at Iris. 'Might as well give them something to talk about,' Iris thought to herself wickedly as she lifted the snake's head and kissed it on the nose which earned her a hiss of appreciation and a sudden spike in the student body's volume of conversation.

"Umm… Iris, no hard feelings about this right?" Neville asked nervously as he approached her warily eyeing the snake cautiously with his wand clutched in a white knuckled grip.

"Sure Neville, no hard feelings; it was just an exhibition duel after all. Sorry about the wrist and all, it seems the little fella had a mind of his own on how best to disarm you and all." She replied with only the barest hint of an edge in her tone and smile, her shoulder was starting to sting now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

"And sorry about the whole broken arm incident by the way; I had no idea things were going to go that far." Neville apologized further, "When I made that bet, I had no idea he would try to rig the game in his favor." The boy said looking sincerely contrite though it did little to quell the sudden ire that filled Iris' breast and caused her new 'friend' to hiss angrily as it cocked its head towards the boy.

"What bet did you make Neville? Better yet, who did you make the bet with?" Iris growled out as she took a step towards the boy who withdrew two steps and eyed the snake, though if anyone was going to bite him; the girl's was probably the more venomous of the two at the moment.

"Well, I made a bet that I would withdraw from Hogwarts if you lost that last Quidditch match. As for who… I'm not entirely sure; I was contacted by a house elf that seems to work for someone that wants me out of here. It's been fairly persistent…" Neville supplied before he glanced over Iris' shoulder bid her a wave goodbye and then hopped off the dueling platform leaving her in the company of her friends and her favorite teacher.

"Quite the performance Iris, the snake was a nice touch but mayhap an unnecessary one; this will be the talk of the school by tomorrow morning." Riddle said as he stood beside her completely at ease with the snake as he watched Neville collect his posse, a very clownish looking Lavender Brown was fusing over his arm; a cloth wrapped around it as he was no doubt escorted to the infirmary.

"Seriously though, that was a pretty wicked duel; Dad never mentioned anything about using snakes to win a fight though. Where did that idea come from?" Liatris asked as she looked at the intimidating conjuration that she had just given accolades over with a curious eye as she scratched some of the scales behind its head which drew another appreciative hiss.

"Draco of course, he was bragging about Snape teaching it to him; so since I was dueling Neville I figured I'd just pass his favorite teacher's teachings on. I dare say it worked well enough." Iris replied and it wasn't even a lie, not really; Draco had bragged about learning the spell over the summer it just hadn't been the actual inspiration for the duel.

"Well, what do you know; the peacock's vanity actually can be a useful trait." Daphne said with a giggle as she nudged the platinum blonde boy, "Yes, yes it is!" Draco responded as he lifted his chin with his prideful boasting before the words actually were processed, "Hey! I am not a peacock!" He snapped at the girl belatedly which sent her into peals of laughter while the rest of the group had the decency to just snicker at while the Slytherin grumbled under his breath.

"Alright, I've had enough of you lot for the night, off to bed! And I'll see you back in my office for detention Iris; harming a student is strictly against school policy." Riddle said as he shooed the group out of the Great Hall while they all chorused groans and Iris stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at him for giving her a 'detention.' "That's another for being rude to a Professor!" He called out to their retreating backs and gave a slight grin to himself as he heard her mock groan from across the Hall.

Reaching the foot of the Grand Staircase, Iris kissed the snake once more on top of the head before tapping it with her wand; turning the animal into a black cloud that climbed back into her wand, the very last of it vanishing with another flash of black light. Bidding farewell to her Slytherin friends, the Gryffindors began the ascent and shared the stories of their duels; though Iris only paid half a mind to it all.

Neville worried her, sure the bloke was a completely git, he was annoying and a bit of a stalker but for the most part he was tolerable and when he was being particularly nice she could even forget that he was egotistical idiot who had been raised with a big head because of his step mother. But underneath it all, there was still that piece of Grindelwald that muddied the waters; there was no telling if that bloodlust was Neville's or the Dark Lord's but what was becoming increasingly clearer was that Gellert's grip on the boy was getting more powerful.

It was enough to change his personality in the few months since school had begun, it had turned him from a clumsy wizard into a competent duelist and seemed to have given him access to some of the Dark Lord's arsenal of spells, because there was no way a goofed up spell would have been the cause of Blaise's injury. But there hadn't been any threads on his aura, no external influence that she could see but the corruption of his magic was all too visible. Between Gellert's and Dumbledore's influences it was surprising the boy hadn't gone into magical shock yet.

Beyond that though, there was that other thread in her own magic; she had seen that influence and knew it was tied to someone else's magic; they had buried it in her, she didn't know what it was but she did know that there were only a limited few who could have laid that spell. Some of the possibilities she ruled out, her parent's for instance and their friends; but others were not so easily dismissed. She had come face to face with Grindelwald herself after all, and that fact that she was constantly under Dumbledore's supervision while in this school.

But the last possibility was one should could not rule out but did not want to believe either; Tom, he was skilled enough and strong enough and had enough opportunities. But he wouldn't do something like this, she trusted him and she knew he was fond of her; but he was a talented liar and even though she had learned to see through some of his masks she didn't know the man. She felt like she did though, he felt like someone that she could relate to; that knew what it was like to be alone in a crowded room.

As the group of Gryffindors were climbing the steps they could hear voices carrying down to them from a group of older students that were climbing above them, "That was some pretty intense stuff, who knew that Potter girl was that good at dueling?" A boy was saying with varying degrees of amazement and exhilaration coloring his voice.

"Are you kidding? Longbottom had her beat, just like he had Zabini beat; he was just too nice to finish the duel. A snakebite for his chivalry; now let that be a lesson, if you're going to be in a duel just drop your opponent quick and disarm 'em!" Came a second male voice, this one clearly wasn't a fan.

"Now that you mention it, that was one hell of a snake though; I never seen anything like that before. I got goose bumps just seeing the thing take Neville down; and you saw what she did when the fight was over? She kissed it right on the nose, like it was a puppy or something!" A third voice now, female, and it was hard to tell if she had been more impressed with the snake or horrified at the idea of kissing one.

"Yeah, I saw what she did; wore it like some kind of fluffy boa. To see a Gryffindor do something like that makes you wonder if she would have been better in Slytherin with her pal Malfoy. I hear they're cousins, would have been better to stick her in with the rest of those pit vipers!" Came the second voice again, obviously happy to have someone else to share his outrage with.

"Come on, that's not fair; not all of the Slytherins are bad! Besides, who cares if they're cousins; haven't you seen the twins in this school that wind up in different houses. But even if every Slytherin was bad, just because the girl used a snake in a duel doesn't make her bad; it means she was creative and used something no one was expecting. That sounds like Ravenclaw material to me!" The first voice returned to defend the witch being slandered.

"Perhaps but I'd hate to have another freak in our dorms, we've already got Loony Lovegood; why would I want some snake fetishist in the rooms below mine? No thank you, I'd rather your crush stay with the lions; they can deal with their own snake in the grass." It was the girl's voice again and from the sound of it she must really hate snakes to be that ardent against even considering having the Seeker in the same tower as her.

"First off, I don't have a crush on her! She's twelve! Secondly, I think you're both blowing this out of proportion; you make her sound like she's the next Morgan le Fey or something!" The first boy retorted indignantly, supposing he was one of the older students then having a crush on a twelve year old would be a source of indignation.

"Whatever man, with the way she was petting that thing and smirking about it; I'd give even money that she's the next Dark Lady or something!" The voice stated as it drifted further and further away as the Gryffindors reached the fifth floor to see nobody in sight, with Hermione looking just about ready to scold some people into next week.

"No worries 'Mione, it's just talk; it doesn't bother me any." Iris assured her best friend as they continued their climb up the staircases, 'Thank goodness we're nearly on break though, if I find those two I'm liable to feed them to… well I guess I should think of a name for him if I'm going to be using that spell more often.'

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**December 18, 1992**

The days of the term seemed to drag by as it seemed that every other student that passed by Iris in the hall was afraid that some cobra was going to jump out of her sleeve and bite them in the face; at first it had been quite funny to see a sixth year student jump back into a suit of armor with a simple 'boo' but it had gotten tedious very quickly.

It did not help that the Trial had claimed another pair of victims, a pair of sixth year Ravenclaws had been found torn up the day after the dueling club's first meeting. The assailant had struck in the middle of the night when both students were in their beds; but because the dormitories there were separated into individual apartments no one had seen or heard either of the students being attacked.

What was known was that it had been both a male and female student; which was curious because only female students and staff could traverse both sets of stairs freely, so just about every male student was ruled out as the attacker but was worse was that a close friend of both victims had told the teachers that like Lucian Bole, his friends had been making cruel remarks about Iris.

That had spread like wildfire through the school by lunch and once it had disseminated through the student body, just about everyone thought that it was a good idea to give the witch an ample amount of space and avoided her like the plague. It wasn't all bad, choice seats where ever she went and actual peace and quiet in the library and the grounds if she wanted to brace against the chill of the outside.

Still, she found it disconcerting that all of the victims so far had resulted from attacks against her and only those that she had borne witness to; it felt like the assailant was making a point to stalk her and punish her enemies. It made her recall how the reflection of Hufflepuff had said that she would be judged personally; and if that was the case what was it judging her on?

Binns said that Hufflepuff's trial was designed to test if someone was worthy to practice magic and that it would purge the school of those who were unworthy, but this all felt personal. Iris had discovered the window, there was no getting around that fact and she remembered the creature that had spoken on Halloween; and how it had wanted her for its treasure. It didn't add up and she was left wondering why; but no matter how many times she asked that question there was no way to understand the motivation behind it all without more direct information.

As such, Iris fell back on the same method with which she had started every adventure at Hogwarts in both this lifetime and in Harry's; she paid a visit to the library. It wasn't a new phenomenon though; most everybody knew that she and her merry band had a large table reserved for them in Madam Pince's personal fiefdom and as one of the top students in her class that she spent a good deal of her time there working on her studies or reading for the knowledge's sake alone.

That was where Professor McGonagall found the raven haired witch, along with her friends, sitting around the polished walnut desk that had been worn and pocked from generations of usage reading a biography of the founders of the school; trying to get a better understanding of the sorceress.

The stern faced Transfiguration professor came over to the table quietly after giving the librarian a cordial greeting and spoke quietly into Iris' ear, "Miss Potter, the Headmaster requests that you join him in his office." The woman took a step back to let the second year scoot her chair back from the table and stand up as she marked the page she was reading and handed it over to her sister with a reassuring smile to answer the unasked question of concern.

Exiting the library, Iris cocked her eyebrow up in question, "Pardon me professor but is there something I should know? Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not Potter, you've absolutely nothing to worry about; unless you've scared another student into a priceless antique suit of armor… again." The salt and pepper haired woman stated coolly as she looked down at Iris, her square spectacles flashing in the light as the pair strode past the windows.

Brushing a strand of her wavy-curly hair behind her ear the young girl gave an unapologetic giggle as she was called out on that little bit of fun, "It was just the once professor, and really it was his own fault for not looking where he was going; besides, that helmet looked quite dashing on him." She replied after a moment's thoughtful consideration on the matter.

"Yes, I thought the plume a fine touch myself." McGonagall responded deadpan though there was a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips as she did so, "Very well Miss Potter, while I'm quite positive you haven't a hand in any of these attacks we're beginning to get some inquiries from parents and the Ministry. They're starting to think that Hogwarts is no longer entirely safe, and since these attacks seem to have you as the common factor the Headmaster is going to want to know if you've noticed anything unusual." The elderly woman explained quietly though the tone was familiar to anyone who had heard her lecture, firm and straight forward but not harsh or pointed.

It didn't take them very long to reach the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office but at the password "Lemon Drops" it roused itself to life and moved aside to part the stone wall behind it and reveal the spiraling staircase that rose up of its own accord.

Iris stepped forward unconcernedly and waved goodbye to the Transfiguration professor with a smile on her face that the stern older woman could not help but match with a small warm smile of her own, no matter how strict she was with her students McGonagall was still a big softie who cared for her students; though Iris knew that the seasoned witch would fight like a tiger to keep the children of Hogwarts safe.

As she spiraled upwards to Dumbledore's domain, Iris took a deep breath to steady herself as she clenched down on her Occlumency shields; she wasn't going to give into his compulsion spells but there was no reason she couldn't feed him the information she wanted him to know. As masterful a manipulator as he was it was only an asset so long as he thought he had the upper hand and he was getting what he wanted, against someone like her that couldn't be controlled it was just a weakness to be exploited.

The considerable office was brightly illuminated with sunlight streaming in through the numerous windows and giving the atmosphere a welcoming and cozy air as the numerous Headmasters of old were napping tranquilly in their frames. The windows afforded a view of the mountains that surrounded the ancient castle, as well the grounds as far as the Quidditch pitch in the distance lending a sense of openness and grandeur that one could see the entirety of the school from this room. In the center of the room was a massive claw footed desk that looked positively ancient and must have weighed a ton; its surface was polished to gleam but the effect was lost by the numerous papers that were strewn about waiting to be signed, at one side was a silver inkpot with a scarlet quill rising from it.

The office was not much changed in this universe then it had been in Harry's, the room was still dotted with small spindly legged tables covered in silver instruments that alternatively puffed smoke or whistled, each no doubt serving a purpose of some sort but to what effect had always been a mystery.

Closing the door behind her, Iris could see the golden perch upon which a dreadful looking Fawkes was resting upon, it seemed she was fated to encounter the creature on his Burning Day in this lifetime as well, which was unfortunate since he was a real beauty. As she watched, the bird lost several of its lustrous tail feathers as it watched her in return; with a sigh she managed a tender stroke along its neck before with a keening treble he burst into flame and left a smoldering pile of ashes in the base of a golden bowl.

"I see you're familiar with phoenixes, Iris; truly magnificent creatures. Capable of carrying immensely heavy loads and their tears have incredible healing properties, not to mention they make highly faithful pets." Dumbledore said as he stepped silently into the room behind her.

"Not to mention they're immortal, rising from their ashes the phoenix never truly dies; they are just reborn." Iris said as she watched the ashes stir and a featherless chick emerged with a shrill cry as it looked at the girl that was standing before it. Reaching into the bowl, she plucked one of the bird's molted pinions with its crimson and gold coloring and turned to the wizened old Headmaster with a questioning look on her face.

Dumbledore smiled congenially and nodded his assent so Iris turned back around and fished some more feathers from the bowl and gave Fawkes another careful scratch along the neck as she slipped the plumage carefully into her bag as she thought of what excellent Yuletide gifts they would make.

"So you wanted to see me Headmaster." Iris stated rather than asked as she took the seat in front of the desk that the silver haired man indicated as he walked around the other side of his writing table and took a seat in the gilded high-backed chair.

"Indeed I did Iris, and as I'm sure you're aware, you are in no trouble. This is simply a formality to appease the governors of the board that you have nothing to do with these attacks, but I must ask you all the same. Did you have anything to do with these assaults?" The old sage's baby blue eyes weren't twinkling over his half-moon spectacles as he asked the question, reminding Iris that for all his manipulations, the man was still concerned over the welfare of his students.

"I had absolutely no involvement in the attacks or any knowledge of who is committing them! I want to know just as much as you do who is attacking people, and why they're dragging me into it!" Iris retorted vehemently, the response might have been too forceful a denial but all of the cross looks she had been getting over the week had riled her up a bit and she was loosing that ire at the Headmaster. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it in any case.

"I appreciate your candor Iris and you know I have my complete trust in you considering it was you and your friends that confronted Grindelwald last year. So have you noticed anything strange this year? Anything that might indicate who the attacker might be?" Dumbledore asked as he crossed his hands on the desk, swirling his finger over the ruby on his finger as had become his habit of late.

Iris took a moment to mull over the question as memories rose unbidden into her mind, from the sibilant voice she had heard on Halloween and the way the message had been clawed into the wall to the changes in Neville as Grindelwald's soul was slowly gaining more power within him. She remembered the shadow of Hufflepuff in the dungeons and Riddle teaching her about the Ring of Obedience, the one tied to Neville no more than three feet from her.

Taking a deep breath, Iris caught the smell of dittany in the air as she exhaled slowly before speaking, "Not this time Headmaster, we're still working on how the message could sustain itself despite the efforts to erase it." Iris replied easily though she felt a small pang of guilt for being dishonest, despite everything he had done; Dumbledore was trying to protect the school but she simply couldn't trust him.

"Very well then, have a pleasant holiday Iris." The erudite man dismissed her with another smile, obviously satisfied with her answer; after all how could she disobey him. He leaned back in his high back chair and watched as she rose from her seat, gathering her back and departed his office with a wave farewell. He continued to stare at the oak door for a while after she left as he spun the Ring on his finger as he delved deeply into thought.

Things were not progressing in his favor; he needed the school to remain open to maintain control over Neville and Iris; with them under his thumb he could ensure their safety and development to be deployed against Grindelwald when the time came but this Trial of Huffepuff's was threatening to ruin everything and he needed it done and over with.

"I have already created the Ring, already risked everything with its discovery; but I cannot use it as it was meant to be used. I need someone completely loyal to me, utterly devoted to my plans… unquestioning but capable of thinking for themselves." Dumbledore muttered to himself as he puzzled over who to choose, it couldn't be anyone that would be missed or could be connected to him in any way so no one from the Order and none of his agents that fed him information.

Rising from his seat, the sorcerer strode over to one of his silver trinkets and drew the Elder Wand from his sleeve; tapping the object he chanted, "Revelare meo mundi" under his breath and stood back as the trinket belched a ring of smoke that hovered in the air and gradually began to expand in size, revealing another circular room framed by walls of books that stretched upwards into an inky blackness with the center of the space dominated by a single stone lectern.

Stepping through the ring of smoke into the pocket dimension, Dumbledore approached the ornately carved reading stand, made from an ever swirling marble the only thing that remained constant were the pair of ravens that were embossed upon the surface and upon which he laid his hands and spoke, "Alkimiam de Anima, bring it forth."

The darkness above roiled with motion and seemed to stir but to look upon it was to see nothing but a rolling darkness that seemed to stretch on forever until a tendril of smoke emerged and began to descend towards the stone lectern, engulfing the surface the tendril distended for a moment as something passed through it and as it withdrew it left behind a thick tome that looked to be hundreds if not thousands of years old, bound in an ancient leather with pages of vellum derived from human skin.

Dumbledore grimaced as he turned the pages of the book, the revulsion he felt was written plainly on his face but he did not stop turning the pages covered in a fine spidery script until he came upon one page with a detailed depiction of a ritual, "Forgive me Aberforth, but I cannot let it happen once more." Dumbledore said softly as he pulled a sheaf of parchment from the sleeve of his robes and began to copy the information that he had sought.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>A shorter chapter than I usually write but I hope you all find it a pleasant read; now I'm sure a number of you are wondering why my updates have tapered off recently and have thought that I've cut this project of mine loose. To answer your concerns, I haven't; the cause of the delay has been a combination of fatigue from working and a lack of creativity for how to complete this chapter. With all of the ways I'm bending this story I've found that I need to rewrite entire sections of plot and that takes time to do.

Anyway, I hope you all still have enough interest in my work and this plotline of mine to stick around and keep me company. As always reviews are greatly appreciated and they keep me motivated to continue working through my dry spells.

**Next Chapter: **_Holidays and Valentine _


	15. Chapter XIII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N:** I'm giving you guys a heads-up now that I rewrote this chapter five times and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Feedback and reviews would be really appreciated this time around.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XIII**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**December 18, 1992**

Leaving Dumbledore's office had been the last activity of the term for Iris, since as soon as she left she made for Gryffindor Tower and reunited with Hermione and Liatris in the Common Room, the two eagerly awaiting what she had to tell them about her meeting with the Headmaster.

The retelling of the tale was short and Hermione kept her questions until it had been relayed but after all her lip chewing during the telling it was humorous to listen as all the inquires rushed out over one another. "What did the room look like?" and "Was the phoenix just like everything in the books?" or "Did you recognize any of the Headmasters in the portraits?"

It was a pleasant way to end the term since by the time they retired to bed it was only a few short hours before they had to be up again to head down to the train station and return to London. But even as she could hear the deep and steady breathing of the other girls behind their curtained beds, Iris herself could not sleep.

Not when she constantly felt unclean, as though thousands of tiny insects were crawling under her skin as she laid on the mattress in the dark. It had been this way ever since she had discovered the line of compulsion lying dormant in her flesh, the very thought of it filled her with revulsion and made her stomach churn.

After a half hour of staring into the darkness of the canopy above she gave up on the notion of sleep and rose soundlessly from behind the curtains of her four poster bed, padding quietly into the adjoining bathroom; jabbing her wand at the door to ensure silence as she passed the threshold and then stood before the full length mirror that was kept within.

She almost never bothered with the thing, what with wearing her school uniform and robes there wasn't much point to it, besides between Parvati and Lavender constantly fussing over how they looked in their boy crazed obsessions; Iris couldn't bring herself to use it their presence lest they regale her with rubbish over who they were besotted with that week.

But alone, in the middle of the night with no one but her watching she could stand to see her reflection. Her skin had paled in the months away from home as she spent much of her time in classrooms away from the sun but in that absence her wildly untamed hair with its assortment of curls and waves had darkened to a midnight black that drank in the light. She could see lithe muscle that rippled just beneath the surface, hard won from hours of practice out on the pitch swaddled in robes and armor and the way her body was beginning to change as the front of her nightgown pushed out slightly and the curve of her hip began to show.

But beneath that flesh was somethinghidden inside of her; and it was unnatural, an aberration of what was supposed to be there. With a practiced ease, the familiar magic undulated, uncoiling from its slumber and caused emerald eyes to ignite; changing the world from its normalcy into a realm of otherworldly beauty as the threads and channels of magic that composed the world were exposed to her in all of their glory.

Reflected in the mirror was no longer the form of a girl but brilliant cobalt and gold magic coming together to form a silhouette filled with radiance, swift channels running through it like tributaries and canals, the current that filled her with life.

Submerged among those marvelous currents was that macabre thread, pulsing in counterpoint to the life around it as though in time with another heartbeat. It ran throughout the radiant form, spread out like the roots of some monstrous tree, choking and grasping, its motionless existence a perversion to the constant change that surrounded it.

She had spent hours looking at the choking vines of the foreign magic, puzzling over them and who had set them there. She knew the person was powerful, stronger than her at least, because it did not matter what spell she cast or how many times she tried to rip at or attack the invasion all it did was dig itself deeper and eliciting an agony that had robbed her of voice and left her convulsing in pain for until she expunged the thought of trying to throw it off.

Those experiences alone had left her with a thick sense of dread as could now constantly feel the weight of a collar set by an unseen hand against the flesh of her throat, abrading and biting deeply whenever she jerked against the leash. It felt like she was slowly drowning, caught in some undertow that kept dragging her farther and farther from the security of the shore.

"Tom knew of course, warned me too; made sure I knew what I was up against. The Ring of Obedience holds its subject in total enthrallment, no escape but through pain that makes the Cruciatus look like a tickle in comparison and that curse has driven people mad." Iris spoke to her reflection solemnly; she knew she sounded tired and drained as her vision returned to normal, the power of her Gazing returning to slumber.

"How blind was I? All my focus on Neville and him fulfilling his damn job so that I got the noose around my neck!" Iris wanted to scream and shout her outrage but that wasn't her, might have been once but not when you've got a hero in your head who was already shuffled across the board as a pawn.

She wanted to be a player this time around, but that meant understanding her adversary and moving off the board. "What does that misbegotten son of dragon dung want with me? I'm strong but he has a staff of teachers that are strong and they'll follow him as a leader rather than me. I'm smart but that doesn't prove anything or else he'd have Mione wrapped around his finger too. So it isn't just me, what is it then? What advantage do I bring him?"

The sensation of insects crawling over her skin returned as a particularly vile thought crossed her mind and she shuddered violently, 'Neville has had a crush on me for ages now, what if that's what I'm meant to be, the carrot at the end of the stick.' She was already revolted just be being under the Headmaster's thumb but if he intended her to be some kind of pet for the Boy Who Lived, she take her wand and sho—

Too late to stop the thought, Iris felt her hands cramping; the veins bulging against the skin as the muscles began to spasm violently under the surface as though they were tearing themselves to shreds. The sudden pain wrenched a half-choked scream from her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut and fought the pain, willing her hands to unclench as her nails began to pierce the skin of her palms and rivulets of blood began to leak out between her fingers to drip onto the floor.

The more she willed her hands to open the more pain she felt, the muscles of her forearms bunching viciously and doing their best to rip free of her skin as they tried to escape from the sensation of her blood boiling and her bones turning to ice and fracturing to pieces. 'Iwillnotthurttheheadmaster, iwllnothurttheheadmaster, iwillnothurttheheadmaster!' Iris repeated over and over in her head, the mantra spoken as quickly as she could frame the thoughts in her head before the pain made her insensate and tortured her for hours as it had done before.

Slowly, almost sadistically, the pain receded; climbing back down from her elbows that had nearly inverted themselves to her fingertips before fading away entirely. It took several long moments as the girl gulped down air before she realized that she somewhere in the throes of the torment she had fallen or that she had begun to cry but even as the heat of shame rose up in her she could not scrub away the tears because of the complete numbness in her arms.

Her chest gradually settled to a normal rhythm as she recovered but her mind was roiling with thoughts that cut at her like shards of glass, the bitter self-loathing that sprang up and ate at her for being so weak; unable to fight the pain or shake of the Ring's hold.

Dumbledore was the good guy too, the one who wanted to prevent the senseless death and torture of Muggleborns like Hermione and her mother, if she couldn't best him what hope did she stand of fighting the likes of Voldemort and Grindelwald. But how was his campaign of sacrifice any better? It had been his responsibility to protect the Stone last year and he had left it up to children to face what was near certain death.

All three of them were wrong and she hated them all.

A heat unlike any she had felt before suffused her, loathing, pain, rage, all of it burned away in its wake as that hatred took hold. It fortified her, gave her the strength to rise from the flower and swipe away the tear tracks that marred her face. She could bear the Ring, the manipulations, safeguarding Neville; because eventually she would get what she wanted. It would just take time, and she could wait.

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><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**December 19, 1992**

Liatris sighed with relief as she slipped within the warm embrace of the manor, as much as she enjoyed the clean, cold air outside; she much preferred the way that the heat of the house returned feeling to her chill numbed though she wished the pins and needles sensation wasn't so bad as the heat began to work on her hands and ears.

Already the manor was decorated in Yuletide spirit as enchanted icicles hung from the vaulted ceilings and motes of light danced within them, coloring the air with hues of crimson and green. The air smelled of holly and mistletoe with a hint of pine that was refreshing and just a little intoxicating as the aroma relaxed her.

Even as the auburn haired witch removed her cloak and draped it over her arm she watched her sister shuffle past her and trudge up the stairs with dark circles under her eyes that had been present since she saw her elder in the common room that morning, nestled on the couch in front of the fireplace and reading a book. It looked like after she had climbed up the stairs with Hermione the previous evening the girl had never managed to fall asleep.

"What's the matter with her?" Remus asked quietly as he came down the stairs after having passed Iris on the stairs his voice tinged with concern even as a wolfish grin spread across his face as he saw his goddaughter warming up by the fireplace. He crossed the room in easy strides and lifted the First Year with an effortlessness that belied his appearance.

"She hasn't been sleeping well the last week or so," Liatris responded as the werewolf set her back on the floor while James and Lily entered the house with their daughters' trunks floating in the air ahead of them, snow was pushing its way through the door around them as the wind carried it in.

Remus looked back over his shoulder with a look of concern, no doubt his instincts telling him to tend to his pup but he pushed those feelings down and looked back at Liatris. "Anything you can share? Or is it… girl issues?" He asked in hushed tones though from the look that Lily shot his way it seemed that he had not been quiet enough.

Liatris laughed at the wince that played across his scarred yet handsome countenance and shook her head as her mirth subsided quickly, "The last week of term has been hard on her is all, there was a dueling club meeting and she was asked to be a volunteer to demonstrate defensive magic. You should have seen her, she was brilliant and even though Neville cheated by starting early she matched him!

"Had him on the ropes too, she had three jinxes out before he could counter and then she cast her own shield just in time to stop him from disarming her but he knocked her off her feet; she was up in a flash after that and she conjured a snake. A _bloody _massive –"

"Language!" Lily commented with a reproachful look as she cut in, giving Liatris reason to blush for a moment before she schooled her features and pressed on, "Anyway, the snake went and bit Neville right on the wrist and just wrapped him up, like that!" She snapped her fingers to emphasize how quickly it happened.

James had a lost look on his face as he looked up the stairs where his eldest had disappeared, "So she won, why would that bother her?" He asked confused, "I rather like it that she beat that tosser!"

Lily cuffed him on the arm and glared daggers at her husband, "Really James! No wonder she uses that kind of language!" The enchantress reprimanded even as he tried to put on an innocent face with eyes widened by shock while Remus and Liatris openly sniggered. They both stopped at a glance from the woman and she rolled her eyes in exasperation, muttering something about "grown men no better than children."

Remus prompted the young witch to finish the story though she hesitated for a moment before beginning again, "… Well, the other students have been pretty mean; a couple Ravenclaw students were talking about how she should be sleeping down in the dungeons with the Slytherins cause she was rotten for doing that and then they got attacked like Bole did after he broke her arm. So now no one will go near her in the halls, they're all scared of her; they think if they upset her they're going to be attacked. Even some of the other Gryffindors treat her different because she beat Neville using that snake charm and he's supposed to be the Boy Who Lived…"

Liatris trailed off dejectedly scuffing her toes on the floor as the adults looked at each other with grave expressions on their face; they knew that Iris was at the top of her class academically, and a star player on the pitch, but she had never been good at making friends. If all the friends she managed to make or at least the regard she had earned from her efforts suddenly turned their back on her; they could easily see why she would be upset.

It certainly accounted for the scent she was giving off when she had passed the werewolf on the stairs with a visibly forced smile and the bags under her eyes. She had smelt of determination; a scent like polished steel and just behind that was the scent of pain, metallic and bitter. But under all of that was a scent of sulfur and brine, and that had startled him because never had he detected such a livid hatred before.

Remus wouldn't have believed that the girl he knew was capable of that emotion, especially over the behavior of some students but with the way that Liatris described he couldn't rightly blame her for it when so many people had turned against her so quickly and for no good reason other than them being scared.

Liatris herself was disappointed with the failure of her schoolmates to show solidarity when some stalker in the school was actively attacking students who picked on her sister, instead of being afraid of her they should be afraid of whoever it was that was following her.

To that end, she was determined to figuring out who was stalking her sister and she was going to make them pay for what they were doing. She wouldn't be too mean considering that the people getting attacked had in fact treated her sibling terribly, especially Bole, she had dreamed of pushing him down the stairs before the person put him in the hospital wing.

But they did need to stop what they were doing before they drove her sister mad and put her into further disrepute among the Houses of the school.

She waited until her parents had headed off into the kitchen to discuss the situation and grabbed Remus by the wrist before he could follow after them. Liatris peeked around him to make sure her parents were out of earshot before she met her godfather's curious gaze and fixed him with her most charming smile.

"Uncle Moony, could I ask a favor of you?" Liatris asked him sweetly and fixed him with her puppy dog eyes that she knew he couldn't resist for very long. She watched the emotions that played across his face and began counting backwards in her head, 'Three…two…one…'

He caved, "Alright, alright; quit it with the eyes! What do you need?" Remus asked as he sighed defeated, his shoulders slumping and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he braced himself for what was coming. When Liatris fixed him with that smile, it was never good for him.

"Do you think you could make another one of these?" Liatris asked as she pulled out a large, much-folded paper from an interior pocket of her robes and presented it to the Marauder knowing that he would recognize it as soon as he saw it.

"I don't believe it, is that the Map?" Lupin questioned as he gently lifted the old piece of parchment from the girl's outstretched hands and examined it with a critical eye before tapping it with his wand and watching as lines began to unfurl across the page, creating an exact blueprint of Hogwarts and the people in it.

"Where did you manage to find this?" he asked seriously, recalling that the Marauders had lost it to Filch years ago. It had been ages since he had even thought of the thing if he was honest with himself but the more prying question was how his goddaughter had gone about reacquiring it.

"I… um, sort of nicked it," Liatris replied hesitantly as she peeked up at the man through her eyelashes with a nervous smile, "That's sort of why I'd like a copy of it; they can have the copy while the original stays with me."

Remus sighed as a familiar pounding sensation started up just behind his eyes that indicated the precursor to one heck of a headache as absorbed all that information, he didn't even know which piece of information he should try to respond to.

'Lily is going to kill me over this…' Remus thought to himself as he massaged his temples to ease his mounting discomfort but eventually nodded his consent. "I'll make a copy of it but it's going to take me a couple days, and please Lia; don't mention any of this to your mother."

Liatris flashed him a brilliant smile and wrapped her arms around the man's middle in a crushing embrace and Lupin slumped his shoulders in defeat as he hugged her back, a rueful smile on his face. He couldn't deny the child anything when she fixed him with a smile like that; he was going to have to work on that.

Separating, Liatris gave Moony another smile before pulling out her wand and tapping both her own and her sister's trunks to activate the Feather-Weight Charms that had been built into them before taking a hold of each one and carrying them up the stairs while Remus headed for the library.

Nearly weightless, it wasn't difficult to carry the cases up the stairs to the third floor landing where both she and her sister resided. As she came off the steps, the auburn haired witch set her burden down and made the split second decision to leave her trunk beside the banister to carry Iris' into her room.

She tapped on the white painted door gently before opening it gently and peeking into the room to see that her sister was sprawled across the comforter, her hair spread across the pillows like a dark halo as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Quietly stepping into the room, Liatris was careful not to disturb the sleeping girl as she set the flower stenciled case down at the foot of the bed.

From her position she could see the lines of exhaustion and the shadows that had accumulated under Iris' closed eyes over the course of the week as she had flagged steadily so it was good to see her finally getting some well-deserved rest. "You've always taken care of me sis; no it's my turn to take care of you, sweet dreams."

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><p><strong>Château de Repos, Calais, France<strong>

**December 23, 1992**

The Chateau de Repos was a prominent estate on the banks of the English Channel, erected due west of the major port city of Calais in France. It had weathered the test of time for generations owing to the fact that no one knew exactly here it was and the considerable wards and protections that wrapped around every block of limestone and marble in the edifice and extending for a mile in every direction.

The building was as old if not older than Hogwarts and had been the ancestral home of the Greengrass family for as far back as the oldest of the ensouled portraits could remember though there were portraits older than them that had never held the imprint of their original selves that might have known if only they could speak.

Places as old as this had a magic all their own Daphne had always thought as she moved through the ancient bastion; a sense of heaviness in the air that felt pressed down on you as you walked past and a sense of memories swirling half seen in the shadows of the old hallways.

Every pillar stretching upwards to the vaulted ceilings bore the weight of its history, the echoes of conversations and whispers of lovers hiding behind them, sometimes when she touched them she could feel the heat of a body that had once rested against the column as if they had just moved away or the scent of perfume that had lingered in the wake of some lady.

The young girl with her honey blonde hair could heat the soft tapping of her footsteps echoing out before her across the ancient marble floor as she strode through gilded halls. There were no ghosts here, at least not the same kind of ghosts that haunted the castle she studied at but phantasms of what had been.

The place had always been a bit disconcerting to visit since it had the feel of unseen eyes weighing you, not judging but simply staring; leaving you naked and exposed, no secrets could survive those eyes. A shiver traveled down her spine before she could quell it and Daphne clenched her jaw as she reprimanded herself for being silly.

She was only here to complete a single task after all, she still had Liatris' letter tucked away at home; the girl had told her how badly Iris had been holding up under all the stress and if she was truthful with herself than she couldn't doubt that claim either. She had seen how her friend had looked, a shadow of herself really; sure she had smiled and laughed but there was just something off about it all.

That thought pressed her forward now, she had a duty to her friend because she knew her friend would have invariably done the same for her. Iris helped people she didn't even like, she had helped Neville last year and no one could stand that git if they were honest with themselves. It was also true that Iris was unlikely to ever ask for help; sure she would accept it readily enough if it was offered but she would never ask for it.

Lia though, she had no qualms about asking for anything; she had made sure that before any of them had gotten off the Express that she had slipped a letter into their hands discreetly.

That was why the heiress was here in the west wing of the chateau, at the end of a long corridor with its arches and towering ceiling that depicted the long history of her family. Affairs both sordid and honorable depicted for eyes to see, the pain of uplifted faces a reminder of histories gleaned and the family motto carved every hundred paces and inked in gold, "Ne Jamais Oublier"

"Never Forget" had been the family's sworn duty since it had been inscribed upon the cornerstone by their ancestor, the very same one that Daphne had come to see as she stood before a pair of large silver doors within a circle of runes that were older than history could know, from the time that magic had first come into their blood.

"Mère du Devoir, je vous en implore, accordez-moi l'accès à nos confidences

les plus sacrées." Daphne spoke the ritual words as she pulled out a candle seemingly made from gold and bound in wax from a pocket in her silver hemmed black robes. She set the glittering treasured candle on border of the sigil nearest to the door in a small receptacle, "Je paie tribut à l'Histoire et rends hommage au mémorialistes oubliés."

Her words rang against the silver doors and echoed upwards into the rafters and then passed her along the long line series of ancestral depictions, her eyes followed the sounds while her ears strained to pick up some ghostly reply but there was nothing except for the increasingly faint sound of her voice being carried away.

Shaking her head, Daphne looked back at the silver doors and gaped in a most undignified manner as she was overtaken by surprise seeing as they stood open before her. The candle she had placed on the floor had a lit wick that was slowly melting the gold down if she looked long enough. Instead she composed herself into as dignified a manner that she could summon up after being struck with the immensity of the doors opening with perfect silence.

The very concept of that unnerved her greatly but she was too Slytherin to let those thoughts sit open on her face where anybody could just see them and even while she knew she was alone, the building itself had always seemed alive to her and she refused to let it see her scrambling like that for long.

Instead she curtsied with all the elegance and grace she possessed, which was not a small amount after all of her mother's lessons in pureblood etiquette and mannerisms, before rising with her chin held high and her body perfectly poised as she strode forward through the massive silver doors into a repository.

There was something different about this room from the rest of the chateau, it was still possessed of the airy quality that composed the building with its tall domed ceiling and the cupola at its pinnacle that let light stream down and the numerous stained glass windows that ringed the circular chamber.

It was the sense of heaviness in the room though, whereas in the rest of the structure the weight of the ages seemed to hang above content to watch; in this space it had descended upon the girl like a mantle. Not oppressive or smothering but _there_, an invisible companion that watched her as she moved through the room towards its sole content; a single statue of a woman in the center of the room.

The woman in the center of the room was sculpted from a pale marble and stood at least ten feet tall, rendered with such detail that it appeared she would draw breath at any moment. She was indescribably beautiful with angelic features and hair that cascaded down the length of her back in ringlets; she wore a plain peplos pinned at the shoulder by a feathered pauldron. Her right hand clutched a wand and held it at her side while her left hand held a chalice and extended it towards whoever entered the chamber.

Daphne had only been in the room once before, right after her grandmother had passed away. It was the same time day that she had been brought to the chateau for the first time and been taught the ritual and price of entrance as well as what significance the chamber held.

The statue represented Cassiphone, the daughter of the sorceress Circe, and the progenitor of their family and magic. At the death of her mother at her husband's hand she slew him in her rage and grief and made a solemn vow of her daughter, that she never forget what happened when magic mixed with those incapable of it; only ruin could spring forth from such union.

As bidden by her vow, Roma never forgot and to ensure that the vow was kept she created the first pensieve so that all the knowledge of her mother and grandmother might be remembered. So it was that every member of her family always returned to the chalice and relinquished their memories on the eve of their death and so guidance could always be found here, because history has a way of repeating itself.

"I have need of such guidance now; danger lurks in the castle walls as the Trial of Hufflepuff has been called. I must know what this portends and how I might safeguard against judgment." Daphne spoke into the unseeing marble eyes of her ancestor and watched as the heavy cloak of history that had settled upon her lifted and settled upon the crystal chalice, the glassy surface began to churn though its surface seemed undisturbed until at last a burgeoning silver took hold of the liquid and it swirled with the memories of ancestors who had attended Hogwarts for a millennia, and then just those who had witnessed the Trial and knew its ways.

Daphne hesitated for but a moment before she dipped down over the pool of quicksilver, she took a deep breath and then took the plunge.

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><p><strong>Riddle House, Little Hangleton, England, UK<strong>

**December 30, 1992**

Standing prominently atop a steep hill overlooking the sleepy town of Little Hangleton was the ornate Riddle House, constructed of pale stone brick and standing several stories high that house was a fine looking manor, the largest and grandest building for miles around with trimmed ivy lattices climbing the exterior walls and circled the large brightly lit windows of the home.

Silhouetted by the glow of one particular window was Tom Riddle, standing with his back to the fireplace that threw its warmth throughout the room and made the shadows dance along the ceiling and walls, occasional snaps could be heard as the logs were consumed by the flames.

His gaze was cast over the village below but for all the intensity of his vision it was not the cottages with their winter decorations that held his attention but they made fit targets to imagine bursting into flame as his ire at the man behind me mounted.

"I grow impatient with this game Gellert; the Judge is already awake and watching the girl as we planned! Now hurry up and sever the bond! The longer you wait the greater chance Dumbledore has of escaping the noose he tied for himself!" Riddle snapped as he finally rounded on the man who was sprawled comfortably on the leather settee within the professor's study, sipping quietly at his cup of tea.

The handsome man with the dark features that Gellert had taken possession of over the summer was no longer looking quite so vigor or handsome, in the few months that had transpired he appeared to have aged years. The healthy tanned skin he once had was now sallow and drawn tightly over his sharp cheekbones and the hollows around the eyes were sunken and bruised but the ultramarine orbs of the wizard within were still vibrant and clear.

He smiled in what might have been a friendly gesture if not for the too thin lips that made it look more like the rictus of the long dead. "I'm well aware of the dangers _Tom_," his smiled widened as he drew out the name and met the wizard's obsidian glare with a coy stare of his own that fanned the man's ire. He did revel in tormenting the man so but he quickly continued as the younger took a step forward.

"It is simply not possible to advance the plan that has been set in motion, yes, the Judge awakened earlier than we expected; but that was the girl's actions that propagated the situation, not ours. I would tell you to curse her sensitivity but that is the reason why we are keeping her alive, because she has the potential to match our strength and by extension Dumbledore's.

"She forced me to perform the ritual early, before I had time to gather the proper reserves in this suit of mine and you can see what it has cost me. I've been reduced to months in this form rather than the year I had hoped to spend and I need time to gather the appropriate amount of strength this time lest I obliterate this body, and stuck in this village full of Muggles it would take me months before I could seize upon another wizard!" Gellert replied snarkily, the irritation in his voice obvious as he set down the china cup on the coffee table before him as he rose to his feet and stepped in front of the hearth.

He was never one to turn aside the flare for dramatics and the glare of the hearth painted his, or rather his 'borrowed' face with writhing shadows that emphasized the skull-like appearance that he had developed. "What is it that really concerns you Riddle? You know the plan as well as I, you were the architect as I recall. Could it be that you've grown fond of the little chit? It's perfectly understandable, her big green eyes staring up at you constantly, hanging on your every word of praise."

For a moment the room's temperature plunged and a surge of fear raced along Gellert's spine as he breath fogged in the air before him, the fire at his side dipping suddenly low as though drained of its energy and the room darkened though not more so than Riddle's charcoal eyes as they became reptilian in nature and crimson specks the color of old blood bloomed in them.

But as quickly as it had occurred the temperature returned to normal though the flames leapt wildly for a moment, singing Grindelwald's hand as the fire burned more enthusiastically. His counterpart's eyes did not return to normal however, and the Dark Lord in his stolen body recognized that he was treading very thin ice at the moment; in this form he had nearly no way to oppose Voldemort's power should he choose to unleash his fury.

"That 'chit' as you call her will one day rival my power; she will be stronger than both Dumbledore and you! Once she learns that we freed her from his control, who do you think she would be most likely to side with? The three of us would be unstoppable! But if she remains his to direct, his to control then they have the advantage; Dumbledore already defeated you once and if she is to be his equal in strength then we are at an end!" Voldemort responded his voice barely above a whisper as it always became in his moments of intense rage; it would not take much effort now to push him over into the killing mood if he was not already there.

"We still have years before she is that powerful and if the need arises, she can always be dealt with though it would be a shame to deprive our cause of so useful a weapon. Still, this plan will work; the blood traitor has already passed the Horcrux unto the worm and it whispers into his ear even as we speak now." Grindelwald insisted, his hands moving with the strength of his convictions.

"Once enough of the boy's magic has been twisted and he falls completely to the possession of the artifact my pet will initiate the endgame! All you must do then is prevent Dumbledore from interfering and to that end our friend, Bad Faith, awaits the command! This was your plan, execute it as you intended and we will have eliminated our adversary's every advantage." Gellert rehashed the plan with such a passionate zeal that even Voldemort had to acknowledge why the man had been such a powerful force in past years, even without compulsion fueling his speeches he could convince even the most pacifistic to take up arms in his service.

"I know it was my plan and I shall execute it flawlessly! But be quick about your part of this, the sooner the boy gives in to his baser desires the better off we'll be!" Voldemort remarked though his voice had returned to its more usual decibel and Grindelwald heaved an internal sigh of relief, he dared not perform such a contemptible act where it might be seen. If he should be thought weaker than he was, his ally might think to be rid of him.

'Ah, but you need me more than I need you; old friend. You need my resources, but once I take the girl and make her my apprentice our relationship will cease and I will rule this land with the most powerful witch sitting at my feet and the rest of them groveling before me.' Grindelwald thought to himself, a pleasant smile pulling at his lips as he drank the remainder of his tea.

As he put the cup down he noticed the red stain dripping along its edge and the trickling heat on his face that he swiped at his the near skeletal fingers of his hand, the pale digits coming away wet and smeared with blood. It seemed that the smile had put too much strain on his meat suit; he should have chosen someone with rounder cheekbones.

* * *

><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England, UK<strong>

**January 2, 1993**

The days of the holiday break passed by quickly in the Potter Manor as the family caught up on what had transpired since September, since November in the case of Lily and James since they had been to see their daughters during the Quidditch game.

James revealed to them that he had quietly been taking his off days to investigate Lockhart so when he filed his suit against the man he was going to be squeeze him for everything he was worth; the way he put it was "I don't give a damn if I have to pull each of his teeth and sell them to Witch Weekly, no one touches my daughters and gets to strut around like he's some sort of god amongst men!"

This had of course prompted Remus to bring up the question of what he would do when the schoolboys of Hogwarts would invariably began asking the girls out in the future. Seeing the great and mighty James Potter choke on a piece of chicken while simultaneously trying to explain that he forbid his daughters to date until they were in their forties had left the lot of them breathless and teary-eyed from laughing so hard.

Well almost all of them, Iris had smiled and laughed with them but it was obvious to everyone that her heart was not in it. It was like all the levity that everyone was trying to inject was rolling off the girl without sinking in and it worried Liatris.

She had thought that being at home without anyone afraid that a snake was going to come crawling out of her sister's hair would put her in a much sunnier disposition, but so far none of it seemed to have made a difference. She had noticed that Iris was sleeping now and looked rested. But she wondered if that was because her sister was actually feeling better or because she went to bed every night exhausted and had to sleep like the dead to do it all again the next day.

For the first week it had appeared as though her sister had simply buried herself in the library, emerging only to take care of her biological functions and then going right back in. It was worse than being at Hogwarts because then the presence of her friends had at least forced the girl to acknowledge them but at home she repelled any attempts to draw her amongst company save for the night of the winter solstice and Yule itself.

But even those moments of revelry for those around them were paled by the reclusiveness that had befallen the girl and also when everyone in the house began to think something far greater than the students was troubling the witch.

Everyone noticed when the second week came about, Iris began to venture outside into the woods, and collectively exhaled but the relief was brief as it turned out that she was simply spending all the hours she had previously spent in the library, outside in the bitter cold. Before she could be counted on to at least turn up for food but now she missing lunch altogether and wasn't returning until well after dark.

Liatris made several attempts to fallow her sister into the woods but each time she found herself fighting the undergrowth and vegetation, quickly losing sight of the raven haired witch within feet of entering the forest. Remus had better success when he started to follow Iris, tracking her for yards until she moved over some unseen game trail or ravine that would have been impossible to see unless you knew it was there.

It seemed like the timberland itself was barring their pursuit and blocking out the sun so that within a few feet the world plunged into dark shadows that were impossible to see anything but vague shapes and outlines, all the while they were given the impression that they were not welcome. No one could remember a time when the woods had seemed such a foreboding place or why it was that it had seemed to have changed.

Lily had decided that the better way to solve what was wrong with her daughter was to go through the library to see what it was that her eldest had spent so much time looking up. Those efforts rewarded her with centuries old history that did little to explain anything at all. The spell books that she had found were interesting as they told her that the girl was researching protective magic.

It struck Lily that perhaps her daughter was afraid of the attacks that had turned everyone against her; powerful wards and defenses would be useful if she were trying to protect herself from an assault of the kind that had befallen her peers. She had only caught the tail end of the duel against Narcissa but she remembered the offensive nature of her magic being more powerful than the defense she had used.

The attacks at Hogwarts had all been ambushes, if she was concerned with someone getting the drop on her than optimizing her defenses would be the better move. Lily could appreciate that logic, she had fought in the last war; the fact that her daughter was taking steps to protect herself was reassuring though she wished that Iris had been more open about it.

Then again, the last time she had begun to act differently she had been attacked by her own mother and the guilt of that memory was enough of a reminder to allow Lily to give her daughter some space. The girl had always been independent, pressing her now would only put her in a corner and she knew Iris well enough to know that making her fight her way free was not a good idea.

Instead when Liatris came to confront her she told her younger daughter what she thought, that Iris was preparing herself for when her stalker got tired of being a mystery and decided to reveal themself to her. He or she would not take kindly to the fact that their attraction wasn't returned and when they responded by attacking the way they had attacked everyone who had insulted her; they would be in for the duel of their life.

"I'll write to Professor McGonagall, ask her to keep an out on your sister. If you'd like I'm pretty sure I can convince her to give you some extra lessons too, your sister is too stubborn to ask for help but she's smart enough to take it when it's there."

The pair of them were in Lily's private study on the second floor and the enchantress had already dipped her quill in some ink and was preparing to write out the letter to her former Head of House as she looked at her youngest daughter.

Emotions ran rampant and unchecked on Liatris' face running the gamut from disbelief and confusion, to eagerness and concern before decided to go back to confusion and fixing her hazel eyes on her mother and cocking an eyebrow as she crossed her arms expectantly.

It was almost like looking into a mirror, Lily thought for a moment, seeing the stance that she had used for years on the Marauders and as Head Girl that demanded answers without so much as saying a word. It made the woman laugh aloud, a musical sound that grounded her; that even in the midst of secrets playing out underfoot that there was still a normalcy to things.

Of course, Liatris didn't take it that way; she just huffed in exasperation and told her mother to ask for the additional lessons before she stomped out of the room. Lily shook her head at the girl's antics and went to writing the letter; she knew what her daughter had wanted to know. Why was she unperturbed by Iris taking on all the responsibility of defending herself and pushing everyone away?

How did you tell one daughter that the other one was probably a match for a trained Auror at the age of twelve and had the capacity to take on most battlewizards with sheer strength of magic?

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Express, En route London to Hogsmeade <strong>

**January 3, 1993**

Returning to Hogwarts was a relief for Iris, not that she as particularly looking forward to returning but the walls of the manor had been closing in on her; everyone was so concerned over what she was doing and trying to figure it out what was wrong with her, it had been driving her mad.

How do you confide in people who are never going to believe you? Dumbledore was the leader of the Light; he had defeated Grindelwald for the benefit of the wizarding world and then fought against a pair of Dark Lords. No one was going to believe that he had created a Ring of Obedience or that he had done it to a twelve year old witch.

The very idea was Ludacris and Iris was well aware that after all the events that had transpired at Hogwarts she would be shipped off to St. Mungo's faster than she could blink; there'd be a lot of talk about a nervous breakdown and the like but invariably she'd be confined to the Janus Thickey Ward and everyone would consider it a tragedy.

What frightened her more was what would happen if she did tell and she was believed, the Ring had not taken her thoughts of attacking the Headmaster lightly; by talking about what he had done and putting him in danger how long would the Ring punish her?

Phantom pain tingled along her arms at the memory of what torture she would be made to endure, she shuddered involuntarily and rubbed at the gooseflesh that had risen on her skin. 'No,' she thought, 'better that I take care of this on my own. It'll be safer for me and for everyone else too.'

It was easier said than done though, she had acquired many lessons from Harry's memories; beliefs that insisted that she must not tell lies, and not telling her friends and family was a lie by omission. Then again she had also learned the suffering of the few was greater than the suffering of the many, and if she was the only one suffering than she could live with it.

She already kept secrets from them so what was another in the scheme of things if it kept them safe? If it kept herself safe?

Those thoughts safeguarded her as she hugged her family at the Platform, had given her the strength to smile at them and reassure them that she was alright. She could see the tension in James' shoulders bleed away as she laughed at his jokes and kissed him on the cheek; a pang of guilt hit her then and she wondered if she had come upon her own resolve to late.

Remus looked at her with an unusual intensity, his transformation loomed only a few days away and it gave his eyes a yellow gleam that she had never noticed before and he hugged her tighter than he normally did too, she couldn't tell if that was a result of the impending full moon or his own nerves though.

She took it as an excuse to squeeze him roughly in return which earned her a muted growl from deep in the man's chest but she smirked up at him playfully and she could tell a little of the wolf that was biting at its chains was settled by the bravado in her expression and by the way he took a deep breath and didn't try to run off with her she assumed that her glamour charms were holding up to his keen nose.

When she went to hug Lily though, Iris could feel her heart lurch savagely in her chest and she willed her face to keep up the mask of a her false confidence, using the pain of lying to her family as fuel for the hatred that burned deep in her chest now; her constant companion.

"Sorry for the holiday mum, I know I killed the mood this year but I had a lot on my mind." Iris apologized as Lily wrapped her up and smoothed her hair, it was comforting and she could indulge in that comfort for the moment before she steeled herself to fight the battles that loomed on the other end of the tracks.

"It's alright sweetheart, we'll just have to make sure that next year is a brighter occasion." The woman returned with a smile brushed some of her daughter's bangs away from her face, "Please remember to take care of yourself…" Lily trailed off as she looked to see that James was hugging Liatris before she leaned in to whisper in Iris' ear.

"When families declared themselves for the Light and faced the Dark, they often discarded the histories they cared not to remember and in the doing they relinquished magic that had once served them well. A strong defense need not only protect you from harm." She gripped Iris by the elbows as the girl started and tried to step but the woman held firm and locked her with a stare.

Iris did not find an accusation or heat behind her mother's eyes but a depth of love and protectiveness that staggered her and shook the resolve she had built up over the holiday before she mastered herself and clenched down on the emotions, bouncing it off her Occlumency shields.

"Thanks for the tip mum; I'll ask Professor Riddle about what he would recommend." Iris managed after a breath and then embraced her mother once more, willing the woman to feel all the affection she had for her before separating and heading for the train, she allowed herself a single look back to wave farewell before climbing aboard the scarlet locomotive.

Liatris climbed aboard shortly after her sister and together they made their way passed all of the compartments to the rearmost train car and their usual gathering spot, where they had been preceded by their friends; and by all appearances they had been attempting to pry something from her based on the way she leapt to her feet with a cry that she would normally have found contemptuously beneath her.

"Finally, I've just about had it with this lot and I had no desire to have to repeat myself." Daphne stated as she crossed the length of the room and greeted the newcomers with a kiss on the cheek.

Draco and Hermione flushed slightly at the proclamation though Blaise couldn't be bothered long enough to be embarrassed, "Out with it Daphne, if you weren't in it for the attention you would have waited for them to show before you told us you had information on the Trial."

Daphne reddened herself at being called out and Hermione gave a triumphant "Ah hah!" before the heiress was able to compose herself, still she managed to toss her hair ostentatiously over her shoulder and resume her seat with a regal bearing. Iris wondered briefly how the girl managed to pull that off with a straight face but the Slytherin must have taken her curiosity as attentiveness since she launched into her tale.

"Well, as you all know; our efforts to turn up information regarding the Trial at Hogwarts have failed spectacularly. Between us and every other curious Ravenclaw it's been a near impossibility to acquire any text at all that deals with the Founders or the myths and legends surrounding them.

But seeing as Liatris' letter urged us all to do our best to continue our research I decided to do a little digging of my own in the family's personal library. The Greengrass line is a Noble and Most Ancient House and has stored quite the collection of histories through the ages." She held up a finger and gave Hermione a look that silenced the question that was forming on her lips but from the way the brunette hoisted her chin, she had only been forestalled.

"You have to understand that at this point in time, power determined the morality of your actions; if you were strong enough people would bow rather than be obliterated. The Founders proved that, the four most powerful wizards of their age came together and formed Hogwarts; not only did they create a school but they created a point of stability.

"The power they held together changed the world; opponents dashed themselves against the walls of the castle and allies learned within its walls, either way, people had to listen to what they had to say. So it was only natural that being teachers and leaders that they became mediators too.

"But all things eventually die and the Founders realized that their own deaths would create a vacuum; when the most powerful wizards perished what was to prevent others from destroying what they had built? The answer to that question was Hufflepuff's Trial.

"The Trial was designed to ensure that any wizard that entered the school with the potential to rival the Founders in strength could be trusted to maintain the legacy they established. The records I read state that in the following two centuries several wizards and witches were found drained of magic and life within the castle.

"It was only at the inception of the Wizard's Council, the original thirteen performed a ritual that bound the Trial to prevent it from taking the lives of those who stayed within the castle. Since that day Lords both Dark and Light have emerged from the castle and have dramatically changed the world."

Daphne concluded relating the story as she reclined fully into her seat with an almost imperceptible smile that radiated smugness at having solved the mystery that had been plaguing the school.

Blaise couldn't take that away from her, she had done a good job in finding out what she had but what concerned him more were the implications. All things considered Bole and those Ravenclaw degenerates were not the kind of people that he thought would be apt to change the world in any respect, so the fact that they had been attacked didn't make any sense.

Secondly, those who had been found 'guilty' so far had been attacking Iris; so the question came to mind that perhaps she was being protected by the Trial because she represented the preservation of ideals that the Founders would approve of. Why then was her face drawn and pale at the news?

It was obvious that she didn't take attention well, not that he could blame her; it seemed that every time she got attention bad things were to follow. First year Seeker, nearly thrown off a broom; second year, attacked by a rouge Bludger and then treated like a typhoid Mary because she beat the Boy Who Lived. Supposing that the Trial had in fact marked her as a powerful witch he could only imagine what would happen to her if the information became public knowledge.

He would have to write his mother when they returned to school, Isabella Zabini was a formidable witch in her own right and she had always given him sound advice before, not to mention that she knew how to deflect attention better than anyone. Why else did she have a sixth fiancé after widowing five times?

Blaise kept his peripheral vision on Iris as Hermione began to assail Daphne with questions regarding the Greengrass library and its contents; the heiress was practically preening under the attention. When Draco and Liatris joined the interrogation it was all she could do not to glow.

The raven haired witch seemed much more content with that than having eyes on her at the moment, especially with the way she kept flexing her hands and biting her lip. The news had agitated her that much was clear; the question though was whether or not it was for the same reason that the news bothered him.

'You've got a secret leonessa, one that troubles you and you do not share. I suppose that is your right, just as it is mine to discover what it is… and make sure that the troubles cease. You leapt to my defense; it is time I leap to yours.' Blaise thought to himself, a smile turning up the corners of his lips as he did so. It would be quite satisfying for him to end what plagued her.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**January 25, 1993**

The weeks following the return to Hogwarts were a marked improvement over the week preceding the departure from the castle, after a month it was only natural that the behavior of the students had relaxed once more. It had always been the case that the student body was a fickle creature, quick to assign its prejudices and while slower to forget them; they did fade with time.

Of course this was aided by how friendly Neville was acting towards Iris, it had never been a secret that he had his heart set on her; but in the weeks that past couple of weeks he had made it clear that he had nothing against the girl. He had even snapped at Ginny when she had suggested playing a prank on the Gryffindor Seeker, a fact that had not been lost on others considering how for the last week Ginny had avoided being anywhere near the Boy Who Lived.

It didn't trouble him at all of course, Neville had made it clear what his feelings towards the girl were; she had never been more than a consolation prize to him and the fact that he had not come crawling back to her to apologize had only made the youngest Weasley even more irate, especially because she had too much pride to just make up with him on her own accord.

Nothing got a school to forget old rumors faster than the formation of new rumors, so a public lover's quarrel did wonders and the fact that there hadn't been any new attacks had helped.

So by the third week of the new term, life had returned to a state of normalcy for the most part. Lockhart was claiming that he was the reason for the drop in attacks what with his continued program of the dueling club, now assisted by Professor Snape since Riddle had declared that he was only capable of dealing with so much idiocy before he was driven to murder.

But then again, Riddle's mood had turned rather foul since the holidays and Iris didn't think it was simply because he hadn't gotten the presents he wanted during Yule even if that's what he told her. Classes had become especially brutal with just about every House dropping at least fifty points.

It didn't stop Iris from attending each of his 'detentions' though; if anything she was more eager to go than before since she had convinced him to let her review on her own time. Since then he had been instructing her in advanced spells that were outside the curriculum and instructing her on how to duel properly, not the sporting way that Lockhart was preaching in the Great Hall but how to survive.

"These attacks have only abated for the moment, eventually your stalker is going to return to strike again once it feels that you have not been paying it adequate attention. When that happens there's no telling who it'll go after but if your enemies only give you pause then it may decide to strike at your friends. When that happens, you must be prepared to fight back." Riddle instructed as he slashed his wand through the air and sent a sickle of purple light sailing through the air to cut at Iris' feet.

The witch dove over the spell and rolled to her feet with a Flinging Hex on her lips and a blue sphere erupting from the end of her wand. "Why me? You heard what she said; the Judge would let her make a keepsake of me. Parseltongue is a rare gift but it goes against everything that the Trial stands for! None of it makes sense! _Confrigo!_"

The Blasting Curse flashed against the barriers of the workroom in Riddle's private apartments as the professor deflected the curse off his shield charm rather than block it like he had done with the hex.

"It doesn't matter why, it only matters that it does!" He snapped as he nonverbally directed to blasts of _Expelliarmus _her way, she was getting better at telling what spell was which by the wand movements alone. "You just have to remember to defend yourself and your friends when the time comes! _Expulso!_"

"_Discindo!_" Iris had taken her mother's words to heart, a defense could also be an offense; the shield charm that she created drove out before her like a wedge and split the incoming spell in half without losing any of its momentum. Riddle's eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he swept his wand in front of him and seemingly swatted the Cleaving Shield out of existence.

"Where did you learn that?" He asked mildly curious as he held up his hand to indicate a stop to the night's lesson, the girl wanted to keep going but she knew better than to argue with the professor. The first time she had pressed for more, Riddle had given it to her and she had been incapable of summoning the strength to blink the next day because of the drain on her magic.

Still, Iris waited for him to slip his wand inside his robes before she put hers back into the holster at her forearm; that had been another lesson, never assume the battle was done until your opponent was disarmed. "I read it in a book." She finally replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Of course you did, the question is whether you read it from a book in the Restricted Section without permission or from the Potter library." Riddle stated with a cocked eyebrow as he placed a hand at his hip and gave his student an appraising eye, "Knowing your father, I'd bet on the former; I doubt your family would much enjoy De Salvo's "Principles of Defensive Paradigms" very much, too many of his spells border on the Dark Arts."

Iris blinked twice before she noticed the approving smile that sent a slight tingle running through her, "Risky business hopping the velvet rope in the library though I remember doing it more than a few times myself. I trust you forged a signature?" he said as he turned his back to his student and began opening the wards on the door to let them out.

"Didn't have to actually, Hermione got Lockhart to give up an autograph not that it was hard mind you, he really does love to use that peacock quill. All it took was a glamour and he thought he was putting it down on his own face instead of an approval slip." She returned with a smirk as she remembered pulling off that little trick, Hermione had complained all the way to the library before the sight of the forbidden knowledge got the better of her.

"You really should have been in Slytherin Iris, your more cunning then any Gryffindor has any right to be." There was a hint of amusement in the man's voice as he led the way back to his study and the witch could just make out the soft chuckle under his breath as he went over to his desk.

Riddle dipped his quill into the inkpot on his desk and scribbled out a note on a piece of parchment before blotting the wet ink with a dusting of sand. "Lockhart's signature will only get you so far into the Restricted Section and so will your age but at least with my signature you'll have a bit more wiggle room. Just remember to take that notebook you're always scribbling in, even I can't get you out of trouble if they catch you with some of those books."

"Aww, you really do care Professor." Iris teased playfully as she took a corner of the parchment in between her fingers while the man gave a faint snarl, "Tell anyone about this and I'll deny it… and detention for mocking a professor!"

The raven haired girl dipped into a curtsy, "Of course Professor, my lips are sealed. I'll see you same time tomorrow after practice." Straightening with a smile she slipped out of the room before Riddle could make good on his threat about transfiguring away her mouth.

These moments of cheeriness had become few are far between for the witch, she had never lived so consciously in all her life or in Harry's for that matter. She was forced to patrol her own thoughts constantly so that the Headmaster never made an appearance in conjunction with anything that the Ring might consider harmful or she would find herself in excruciating pain.

She had taken to avoiding large crowds of people, eating at the earliest possible time or latest in order to avoid engaging others in conversation who might unknowingly say something that would inspire some lance of agony or force her throat to constrict around a piece of food and choke her. Of course that behavior also meant that her friends were constantly trying to prod her out of her 'introverted streak' which was equally dangerous.

It was only in the moments where her mind was engaged completely on its task, when she was flying or dueling or brewing, that she found escape from the prison that her body had become and the tending of the flame that she nurtured within her. She knew somehow that it pleased Riddle to see the new ferocity that she dueled with, the way she bordered on elative abandon and passionate fury.

It was to the tune of those brooding thoughts that and taking the secret passageways up to Gryffindor tower that she heard muffled yelling. She debated for a moment whether it was a good idea to eavesdrop but as she drew nearer the voices grew increasingly distinct until she could tell that Ginny and Neville were having a row in one of the abandoned classrooms on the sixth floor.

"I can't believe you are this stubborn! Just admit that you were wrong and everything goes back to normal, I'll even tell everyone that I apologized to save you face!" Neville was saying, his voice steady and reasonable though there was an obvious strain to it as he reined back on his flaring temper.

"Apologize! Do you think me so weak willed that I'll apologize for sticking up for myself? No Neville, I will not apologize for being proud enough of who I am just so that you can have a girl on your arm to make Potter jealous!" Ginny yelled back, obviously unconcerned with being overheard, Iris silently rooted for the girl despite how much of twat she was.

"This is more than just about Iris, Ron won't shut up about how moody you're being and Lavender won't stop nattering on about how lonely you look sitting in the Common Room! I'm sick of it all! So just apologize for being unreasonable and I don't see why we can't put this whole thing behind us."

Now that her name was being brought up, she was much more interested in seeing what was going on behind the closed door, so she waited for the Ginny to make her retort and then eased open the door so that she could peek through and into the room.

"You insufferable prat! I will not apologize and if you tell me to do it one more time I promise I will hex you. Now I know for a fact Ron doesn't complain about my moods because he has the emotional depth of a spoon. You can't bring yourself to admit that you want to patch things up with me because you feel guilty about the whole thing."

Neville threw up his hands in disgust that the argument was not going the way he had planned and he wheeled around and made his way towards the door, Iris retreated backwards and fell back around the corner to watch as he shoved open the door and started for the staircases that led up to the Common Room.

He did not get far before Ginny came out of the room on his heels and grabbed him by the wrist of his left hand, from her spot Iris could not see what had happened other than a brief flash of light and the young redhead giving a hiss of pain as she drew in air sharply. There was something to be said for Weasley pride though because she yanked her hand back savagely and there was a definite metallic snap.

"I gave that to you for good luck when we came to Hogwarts, when you apologize for being an idiot and treating me like a consolation prize, I'll give it back!" Ginny waved her clenched fist under his nose for emphasis before fixing her hands at her hips and giving the boy a fierce stare.

Neville warred with himself between apologizing and getting whatever Ginny had taken back from him or preserving his inflated ego. It was hard to tell what he was going to do since he gave a simple nod of his head that took some of the edge out of Ginny's posture before he turned on his heel and marched away.

Ginny gave a muffled scream of frustration as she watched him go before she tossed whatever was in her hand down the length of the corridor, the sound of metal rubbing on stone came from a few feet away from Iris but she dared not move from her position until Ginny had stomped after Neville and rounded the corner at the other end of the hall.

With the corridor clear, Iris emerged from her position from behind the wall and conjured a beam of light from the end of her wand as she searched for whatever it was that the other girl had thrown in her anger. It only took a moment for the beam of light to fall upon the familiar red gold links of the bracelet that Neville had been wearing since last September, and Iris stooped down to pick it up.

There was no flash of light or rush of pain as her fingers touched the metal though there was a sense of warmth coming off of it that was probably the result of having been worn and held. There was something else about the bracelet though, she couldn't quite put her finger on it but there was a sense of familiarity that it gave off though she knew she had never seen anyone wear other than Neville.

"I suppose I ought to give this back to Ginny, she did promise to give it back if he apologizes." Iris said aloud as she watched the light from her wand glimmer across the metal links prettily and recalled that Ginny had been rude and confrontational since they had first met. "On the other hand, I could just hold onto this for a while until she apologizes to me of course."

That statement brought with it a sense of appropriateness that solidified the plan in her mind as she slipped the bracelet inside the pocket of her robes and running the metal between her fingers as she climbed up to her dormitory, her mind thoroughly on the task she had in mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Sorry for the delay folks but this chapter was an unexpectedly difficult to write requiring five revisions before I liked the fidelity of the characters. In any case, this chapter didn't quite stretch to Valentine's Day but we are at the cusp of it and the mood has been set for the upcoming chapters.

I'd also like to thank a few people here for their assistance: Nomisora for your fantastic suggestions and help, I've gleaned a few things that I'm looking forward to implementing in the future. Also a big thank you to LlyNnS for the English to French translation.

I hope you all liked this chapter and I'd be glad for any reviews, feedback, or questions that you have.

**Next Chapter: **_Valentine's Day and Discussions_


	16. Chapter XIV

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N:** I've been playing with the PoV switches for a while now and I think I've finally found a solution that I like; not going to promise I won't go back to my mix and match style but I think this method gives better structure. The end of this chapter starts the ball rolling for the end game so enjoy!

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XIV**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK**

**February 14, 1993**

Ignorance is bliss and that was certainly true for the students at Hogwarts, two months since the last attack had left most people relatively relaxed. It was obvious in how the students behaved since they were no longer traveling in groups or furtively looking over their shoulders as if someone was going to spring upon them from the shadows of a suit of armor. It was even more noticeable in how they no longer shied away from Iris as she walked through the halls.

That didn't mean everyone had the memory span of a goldfish though, many of the Ravenclaw students continued to eye the Gryffindor Seeker as they passed her in the halls or fixated on her in the Great Hall as she ate her breakfast. Conversations paused as she walked by them and didn't resume until she was out of earshot.

Compared to the attention she had received before the holidays, the Ravenclaw behavior was barely of consequence but she couldn't help but feel a prickle between her shoulder blades as fixated gazes roved over her; patiently waiting for her to attack another student and be caught red handed.

She considered the possibility that the conversations that were constantly being dropped around her were plans for retaliation, certainly there would be no reason for them to claim up on what charts they were drawing in Astronomy after all. She felt assured in her thoughts when she caught Cho Chang whispering to Pansy Parkinson in the library one afternoon.

Those two had only one reason to be talking with each other, since not only were they in different Houses, they were in different years. They did have one thing in common though, and that was the shared dislike for the raven haired witch.

It set Iris on edge, expecting an attack anytime she was beyond Gryffindor tower had pushed her senses into overdrive as she was in a perpetual state of combat readiness and her friends had picked up on her distress, when she explained to them the reason behind her jumpiness it seemed to her that they were dismissive of her reasons though Liatris did confide in her that she was taking some extra lessons with Professor McGonagall.

The only thing that had provided her comfort lately was the bracelet she had picked up in the hall; it had been great fun to see Ginny Weasley go absolutely mental over it. The morning after the argument she had gone looking for it and since it had been picked up already the red head had thrown a fit looking for it, threatening to hex the person who had taken it if she didn't receive it by the end of the day.

That didn't happen since Iris had already resolved that she wouldn't be returning the jewelry until Ginny apologized to her and Liatris, when that was done the bracelet would turn up in the bottom of her trunk and an anonymous letter would inform her of that. Until then, the piece of red gold craftsmanship would remain tucked into the pocket of her robes, within easy reach.

It was rather fun to play with though, behind the curtains of her bed and hidden from view she would just let the metal links run through her fingers and watch the light glint off of the tiny runes that had been etched into it, too small and numerous to make out but relaxing to watch as they seemed to ripple and move when stared at.

She could never remember when she fell asleep exactly but when she woke it was to a sense of having rested deeply. So on Valentine's Day, Iris entered the Great Hall with her awareness sharp and her body limber, prepared as always for the ambush that the Ravenclaws were bound to spring any moment.

She was mildly taken aback by the lurid pink flowers that decorated the walls and filled the air with a too sweet smell that gagged her, while from the clear blue sky of the ceiling came a shower of heart shaped confetti steadily falling onto the tables and more devastatingly, the food.

Iris slid onto the bench across from Hermione and her sister as she drew her wand from her sleeve and swept it over the plates of food, Vanishing the confetti that had accumulated and a second pass of her wand created a barrier over head to keep any more from falling.

Iris didn't bother asking what was going on; she already knew that the only person stupid enough to try something like this was Lockhart and that was without the echo of Harry's memories telling her what was going on. Still, it didn't take long before other students followed her example and raised barriers of their own against the offending particles.

The assistant professor clad in his robes of lurid pink to match the decorations frowned from his place at the Head Table as he saw the confetti falling to the sides of the House tables and piling in between the aisles steadily, he turned the expression upside down quickly enough as he stood up and placed his wand against his throat in what Iris expected was a _Sonorus _charm.

As early in the morning as it was, she was not willing to hear the man's voice pounding against her ear drums and she pointed her wand at him discreetly and murmured a _Quietus _to cancel the spell before he spoke.

"Happy Valentine's Day everyone!" He shouted over the steady conversation of the students while the teachers fixed him with glares, McGonagall had a muscle twitching in her jaw as though struggling to keep her jaw shut and not transfigure him into a mouse that she would delight in hunting.

Lockhart blinked in surprise when his voice did not carry but smiled all the brighter to cover his mistake, "I would like to thank those of you who have already sent me cards, all forty-five of you! As you can see, I've taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all but it doesn't end here!"

He clapped his hands and on cue the air above began to shimmer and bell like chimes, faeries appeared; unlike the pixies these creatures looked like tiny people with butterfly like wings though they flapped much like a hummingbird, leaving only the sense of brilliant colors that could barely perceived.

"My friends here have graciously agreed to deliver your valentines; all you need do is place your hand above your head with your palm flat and they will land. Whisper your message and they will insure it is delivered! But the fun doesn't end there as I'm sure my colleagues will not desire to miss out! Ask Professor Snape on the brewing of Love Potions! Or Professor Flitwick on an Entrancing Enchantment! And the lovely Professor McGonagall can surely show you how to make the perfect gift for your valentine!"

Lockhart displayed his smile for the crowd and Iris couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh at the idiot or fear for him as Flitwick buried his face in his hands and Snape fixed the students with a look that described torture of unparalleled dimensions if anyone dared to ask him. McGonagall was gripping the table so hard her knuckles had turned white and from the cords jutting from her neck she was grinding her teeth to prevent herself from turning him into a flea.

The only person on the Head Table smiling was Dumbledore himself, no doubt thinking that it was all great fun and playing the role of eccentric Headmaster since there was no way Lockhart did any of this without the man's permission. The sight of the silver haired wizard was enough to drain the amusement from Iris; she finished her glass of orange juice and then rose from the table with a sound of disgust.

Her humor did not improve as throughout the day classes were besieged with faeries delivering valentine messages, they did sing quite a bit better than the dwarves did but they had an annoying habit of creating illusions to go along with the messages. Boys found themselves bedecked in suits of shining armor or garbed in rich robes, the girls found themselves adorned with glittering tiaras and shimmering gowns.

The only reprieve from the creatures that came throughout the day was in Defense since Riddle wasn't the type of person to let anything Lockhart did interfere with his class; each time the creatures tried they found themselves blown away in the face of sudden gales. They learned their lesson quickly and knew that they were not welcome. Unfortunately, it did nothing to keep Lockhart out and he was worse than the magical creatures; at least they had the decency to make themselves scarce after they delivered their message.

Gilderoy didn't share that particular trait, preferring instead to enter the classroom with all the grandiose hoopla that he could possibly command as he went around commenting on all of the gaudy costume illusions that had set upon the students. He seemed quite pleased with himself over his idea and the way that his costume left a trail of sparkling motes of light.

"What a shame T-" The blonde haired man froze at the sudden death glare that he received from the professor obviously treading thin ice with his overfamiliarity, "Riddle, that you've chosen not to participate in the festivities when so many of your students wish to share their regards."

Lockhart drew his wand and waved it over the desk the Defense instructor was sitting behind and unVanished what must have been all of the messages that the faeries had been unable to deliver, leaving a pile of cards that overflowed over the borders and piled around the desk, "It's poor form to ignore your well-wishers…" Lockhart picked up a card from the desk, seemingly at random and opened it, "See here this one comes from Miss Chang, what a lovely girl. She suggested the faeries you know, I was seriously considering hiring dwarves."

Lockhart gave a slight chuckle as he pictured dwarves wandering the halls of Hogwarts; the sound seemed to coax a number of laughs from his fans amongst the children in the room. Riddle for his part managed a forced smile through his mask of indifference though anyone watching him could see the flecks of garnet that bloomed in his obsidian eyes and the chill that ran through the room as he struggled to maintain control of his rage.

Iris took her cue from Tom as she gripped the bracelet in her pocket and restrained the rage that was bubbling up from within her and its whispered promises to hurt the bumbling buffoon, to cut and tear and rend him apart. She found herself smiling viciously at the thoughts and visiting the same punishment on Cho Chang for her part in this and suppressing the urge to giggle maniacally at the visions that her imagination was weaving for her.

When she met the dark eyes of Tom again she noticed the flash of concern there, an emotion she was sure no one but her could see there and she forced herself to take a deep breath and release the red gold as she gave him the smallest of nods to show that she was fine. The concern didn't go away but it was lessened somewhat as he returned his attention to Lockhart and proceeded to insult him with a number barbed compliments that other man didn't seem able to catch though the students were snickering easily enough.

By the time they emerged from the class to go to dinner, Iris had grown tired of the sound of flitting wings overhead and the stupid delight that the students were reveling in as they proudly displayed the tokens of affection that had garnered throughout the day. She was quite glad that no one had thought to send her a valentine; the one time Neville had put up his hand to summon a creature during lunch had been the time that she let him lock eyes with her and stared him down.

Unfortunately, it seemed that either he had worked up the courage again since then or someone had a death wish as a troupe of faeries surrounded her in the crowded hallway and from the look of it, they were determined to accomplish their task considering how the lead faery was returning the icy stare that the witch was fixing her. The miniature woman was the first to flinch as Iris curled her hand into a fist and caused her knuckles to crack softly.

A triumphant smirk twisted her lips and she made to slip past the ringleader when the sound of ripping cloth and the smashing of inkpots froze her in place. Looking down confirmed that her bag had been slashed open from the bottom and all of her things had fallen out. Raising her eyes, she looked around at the students ambling passed her with unbridled fury that did nothing to reveal who the culprit was but gave a number of them reason to give her a wide berth.

Hermione was looking at her with some concern but she just waved the girl off with a strained smile as she told her to go ahead. The brunette wavered but relented when she saw the look on her friend's when she flicked her eyes at the faeries that were now circling above with what might have been a vengeful glee. With a nod of resignation she departed though she kept stealing glimpses over her shoulder as Iris knelt down.

The faeries began their payback as Iris tapped her wand against the canvas of her bag and willed the fabric to knit itself back together. She focused on her task and completely ignored the creatures that danced above her and the cheesy lines they were probably delivering as she used a few of the maintenance spells she knew to clean up the mess and sort her belongings.

By the time she was done, the faeries had finished and the lead one stuck out her tongue at her as a glamour charm settled on her though the creatures flitted away as some slight giggling from the students sounded around her in the corridor. "You know Potter, it's really impolite to ignore faeries; they tend to be very temperamental. It's probably no use to tell you any of that though considering your breeding."

The voice of Pansy Parkinson was enough to push all of Iris' hair trigger senses to the edge as she whipped around, her stance widening as she did so to distribute her weight and placing her weight in the balls of her feet so that she was ready to spring. The Slytherin was smirking at her with her wand drawn, "You really do make a great faery princess you know, but really your hair would be much better suited to the tale if you were blonde."

The giggling increased around Iris at the statement and she cast a surreptitious glance at herself to see that she was indeed in a bedazzling gown of glittering silver that would have been more suited to a story book. With a growl of disgust she used a simple _Finite_ and the air seemed to quiver as the illusion shuddered before collapsing into a hazy cloud of light as it was unable to stand against the wave of magic that rippled from her.

The giggling stopped at that and as Iris looked at the ring of students who had gathered in the corridor, noticing that there was more than a few people who were blinking in surprise as the illusions they had been settled on them dissipated while others were rubbing at their skin as they physically felt the wash of her magic.

Pansy's smirk flickered for a second before she had it up again, "Well, I guess there's no accounting for taste on your part. Must be because of your Mudblood mother, there's no telling what that kind of filth would do to a proper pureblood line." There was a startled gasp from some of the crowd at the vehemence with which the pug faced witch tossed out the slur.

Furious anger burned white hot in Iris' throat for a moment as several nasty hexes danced on the tip of her tongue but the part of her that was rationally objective knew that no matter how much Parkinson pushed with her verbal abuse if she retaliated with magic, Gryffindor would be the one to lose House points.

The smirk that the dark haired Slytherin wore said that she was quite aware of the situation as well, which only served to fuel her ire even more. Slipping her hand into the pocket of her robes, Iris grasped the bracelet there and squeezed it to relieve some of her frustration and as she thought of a way to show up the other without resorting to turning her into a slug, no matter how much that solution would have satisfied her.

She was surprised but the simplicity of the thought that came to her and a smirk of her own curled her lips as she focused on the other witch.

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><p>Pansy was quite pleased with herself, things were going almost perfectly; she had to admit that as much as she didn't particularly care for Ravenclaws, Cho Chang would have made an excellent Slytherin.<p>

It seemed that the older girl could hold a grudge, especially considering how Iris had practically spanked her in the Dueling Club last December. She had discovered that Pansy was no friend to the Gryffindors and even more antagonistic with regards to Gryffindor's perfect little witch.

How she despised Iris, her mother was a Mudblood who had polluted a pureblood line and yet she was top of their year. Top marks in every class besides Granger but at least that Mudblood had the decency to be ugly and talentless except for her smarts, but not Potter; no, she just had to be pretty and talented and powerful. It was not fair, how dare she be so blessed with such foulness running through her blood.

It was absolutely infuriating, so when Chang; a proper pureblood (even if she was from a Light family) told her that Lockhart was going to be putting together a morale booster on Valentine's Day to take everyone's thoughts off of the attacks that had bothered the school it had seemed like a great way to refocus the school's attention on the chit who had gotten Bole put up in the Hospital Wing.

With the Slytherin Beater unable to play they had been sure to lose against Ravenclaw and that would have been absolutely intolerable, but Chang was the Seeker for that team. It had been a simple matter to ensure that she let Slytherin got the Snitch if she helped her punish the half-blood that had upset the balance of blood purity. Of course, the fact that she was going to humiliate the girl was reward in and of itself, but a proper witch knew it was better to be paid for work that you would do for free.

It had been easy enough to get a copy of Potter's schedule, Colin Creevy was a fanatic of Neville's and everyone knew that Longbottom had a crush on the Gryffindor Princess; all it had taken was a few words to the filthy child and he had coughed up the schedule eagerly. It was always satisfying when Mudbloods knew their place was to serve their betters.

With the schedule and the knowledge of the faeries, it was easy for Pansy to put together an embarrassing plan that would make sure that the half-blood knew where she really stood.

A fey tale about a homely witch that used her magic to become beautiful and entrance many a suitor to her begging each of them a token of their love to prove that she was the one they desired. Compiling artifact upon artifact of power she chose to strike at the Queen and take her place as the most powerful witch in the land only to find that she knew nothing of the true power that the Queen had. The witch was turned to ice and placed in the Queen's garden, made to melt every day and reform every night in an unending cycle as her punishment.

It was the perfect story to humiliate Iris, except the girl hadn't even wanted to listen to the faeries, so she had to rip her bag with a spell to force her to stay put. But even then, she didn't even listen to the story the faeries were telling even as the other people in the corridor stopped and turned their attention on the girl as they watched the story play out with the faery illusions.

And then the faeries had gotten it wrong because instead of making Iris the witch the was frozen and melted constantly, they had made her the Ice Queen; gave her a gown of glittering silver and pale blue, skin like alabaster and made her ebony hair shimmer like raven feathers; so black that you could see reflections of thousands of different colors within those strands.

When she rose, it had been breathtaking; the illusion showed not Iris as she was but as she might be in the future and never had she seen a witch that looked more regal, exuding a sense of power and majesty that had stilled those gathered. Pansy could not abide that, she had to burst the image now before her plan was ruined.

"You really do make a great faery princess you know, but really your hair would be much better suited to the tale if you were blonde." She said with a patent sneer, her wand held firmly in hand since she had sent the spell to tear the girl's bag and she was pleased with herself as she heard the nervous giggles from the gathered crowd, 'That's right, she's no Ice Queen; she's just a silly little girl who thinks she better than the rest of us.'

But Pansy was unprepared for the way that Iris moved, she whirled to face her voice and her movement was nearly predatory, the power and majesty that she displayed with the illusion had become something akin to watching a lioness prepare to pounce; radiating a sense of danger.

The ensorcelled witch seemed to take notice of her words though and somehow misinterpreted the nervous laughter for derision since she took a glance at the silver gown that hung over her robes and dispelled them with a word. Pansy took a shuddering breath as the magic rolled off of Iris, it filled the air with the scent of an approaching lightning storm and she could feel the tingle of static over her exposed skin as every glamour in the corridor fell away.

It was utterly disappointing to see the twelve year old girl that had emerged from under the faery illusion, like something beautiful had just departed from the world; but there was no way she would ever say something like that. "Well, I guess there's no accounting for taste on your part. Must be because of your Mudblood mother, there's no telling what that kind of filth would do to a proper pureblood line."

Pansy regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, she had not meant those words at all but the fire that surged behind Iris' eyes and the sudden charge of electricity in the air made her fear what was about to happen as the sense of predatory danger returned. She noticed how even as the girl's shoulders trembled with rage, her wand never moved off of her and it paralyzed the smirk on her face.

And then Iris smirked in return and Pansy could feel her bowels turn to water as Iris glided forward, it was the only way to describe her movement; nothing should be able to move that gracefully, not while wearing a school uniform and flats. The girl's robes seemed to flutter in some phantom wind and the scent of ozone wafted to her nose with every inch forward.

The raven haired witch stopped before her and Pansy found she couldn't have moved an inch even if she had wanted to, not when the fire behind those emerald eyes had frozen and burned with an intensity that pinned her to the floor. Iris slipped her own wand back into her sleeve, and Pansy could not fathom that this was the same girl she shared Potions with.

Not when the other witch ran her fingertips across her cheek and set her body to burning with the desire to respond to the touch but daring not to, even as Iris dragged her fingertips across Pansy's collar bone and down her arm.

"Thank you for the valentine Pansy, I do so appreciate that you took the time to share your love considering how stressful the last few months have been for me. It's… touching to know that you care so much." Iris whispered into her ear, chills of pleasure and excitement and fear rand up Pansy's spine but she didn't shiver, it would be utterly unbecoming to shiver.

Those emerald eyes drew back for a moment and fixed her with another gaze that seemed to pierce right down to her soul, seeing everything she was at a glance. Iris smiled then, it was a pretty smile but it never touched her eyes; and then the witch leaned forward and brushed her lips across Pansy's cheek and blew a breath against the lobe of her ear… and then she was gone.

Pansy stood still for a moment, completely oblivious to how everyone else stared at her for a moment before moving on; she was still laboring to control the rapid beating of her heart and the shallow breaths as her mind spun dizzyingly. She forced herself to take a deep breath and steady herself, but when she did that she could smell the lingering scent of a rainstorm and ozone.

Slowly she came back to herself, realizing that she was still in the Charms corridor with her back pressed up against the wall and flushed at what she thought people were going to think of the encounter that had transpired. It would be absolutely mortifying; Chang would most assuredly call off their deal when word of the debacle returned to her.

"You know, there's nothing to be ashamed of," Pansy jumped at the sound of the dreamy voice from her right, and looked at the girl who was already developing a reputation amongst the school for being utterly barmy. Loony Lovegood as she was called had waist length straggly dirty blonde hair and wide silvery-grey eyes that seemed frozen in a surprised expression.

"Magic calls to us and our bodies respond instinctively; you just had the misfortune of stepping on a Lady's toes. At least we know that she'll be a friend to Muggleborns if she gets that angry over a few words though."

"You're positively mad if you think that chit is a Lady! She's strong, stronger than a half-blood has any right to be but she is no Lady!" Pansy denied vehemently, and then she crossed her arms across her chest in disbelief that she even responded to the girl, she was a pureblood but it was unseemly to be seen with a Lovegood. She must be more rattled than she had thought.

"True, she isn't a Lady yet; it'll take a few more years until her magic grows to that level but she gave us a taste of what it'll be like. For just a minute, with all that emotion fixed on one point she was there." Luna said in that dreamy voice of hers as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as though to savor the lingering taste of lightning in the air. "I do hope there's some pudding left." She said as she opened her eyes and began skipping down the hall.

Pansy watched the girl go with a troubled expression on her face as she weighed the girl's words, but really; it was Lovegood, everyone knew that family was mad from that magazine they published. Still though, she couldn't help but hear the words repeated in her mind; not when she had been caught in the eye of the storm that surrounded Iris Potter.

She would have to inform someone who was capable of making decisions from an objective point of view. Besides, Mother had always known what to do; and the chance that there might be a new Lady that had nothing to do with the Dark Lords or Dumbledore might be interesting for her to know.

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><p>Dumbledore grimaced as his ears were filled with a high pitched hum that made his teeth hurt and sent a lance of pain behind his eyes to hammer on his temples; he bared his teeth in a silent snarl as he flicked his wand forcefully at the silver instrument that was causing his grief and watched as it shattered into pieces.<p>

The humming ceased immediately but it did nothing to alleviate the headache that had risen up in its wake caused by the backlash of tripped wards. Spells of protection and monitoring as old as the Founders were deeply rooted in the walls of the castle and the basis for each of the new protections that every Headmaster placed atop them. When one of the old ones was activated it was the equivalent of having a cymbal being bashed within one's head.

Fawkes poked his head out from under his wing and crooned softly, the notes of phoenix song taking the edge off the pain and soothed the old man even as he opened a drawer of his desk and retrieved a potion in case of matters such as these and drained it without pause. He sighed with relief as the pain eased and allowed him the clarity of thought to deal with whatever had transpired.

Pushing back his throne like seat and rising from behind the claw footed desk, Dumbledore crossed the circular room to a window that overlooked the castle; he took a moment to smile at the beauty of the domain that he reigned over even as he reached out with his magic to the thread of the ward that was vibrating.

'Ah, what is it that you've done this time Tom?' Dumbledore thought to himself as he seized the familiar strand of trembling magic and cast it upon the glass, watching as the view of the stone towers and courtyards disappeared and instead he was left peering into a corridor of students gathered in a circle that he was far too familiar with.

It was the behavior of those who had gathered around to watch a spectacle, an argument or brawl among school children and he felt the thrumming of his pulse race as Iris faced a Slytherin girl of apparently equal age. It took him a moment to put a name to the face but when he did, the man couldn't help the snort that escaped him.

Pansy Parkinson was her mother's daughter, lacking tolerance for anyone not of pureblood descent and incessantly believing herself superior for her breeding. Her father had died in the War during one of Voldemort's raids, leaving Actaea to raise their daughter alone; it would have been a tragic tale if Albus wasn't convinced that it was she who developed the Heartsbane curse that had killed so many of the Aurors.

Still, the sight was troubling since this particular monitoring spell wasn't meant to alert the Headmaster about an altercation, that one had long since been discontinued as it was impossible to get any work done with it constantly going off. Instead, this spell was designed to monitor for surges of magical activity that would indicate a Lord-level wizard about to attack.

It had gone off more than a few times over the years, generally when Tom was in one of his moods; after Lockhart's introduction to the class this year for instance, it was the reason Dumbledore kept a supply of Pain Relief Potions. But this was new, of course he knew that Iris would eventually become a Lady someday; her magic was strong, at least as strong as Tom's had been when he was her age and he was a match for the Headmaster himself.

It was very well then that he had made the man his Deputy and was grooming him to be his successor, Britain would need a Light Lord after he passed away though hopefully not for a few decades yet. The presence of Iris was also reassuring, her parents were dedicated to the cause of Light; had been his protégés during the War and would shape her much the way he had would.

The nature of her friends troubled him slightly but she was still young and much like her mother, able to see the best in everyone; it would just be a matter of time and perhaps a few nudges in the right direction to make her see that her place was amongst her fellow Gryffindors and not the snakes she kept company with.

He glanced at the ruby ring he wore and felt a small twinge of regret that he had allowed himself to create it but it was a necessary evil, he would ensure the continuation of the Wizarding World in the vision that the Founders had created. It ensured her future beside the Boy Who Lived, the next leader of the Light and promised him the means with which to mold her into the next Light Lady.

She would need a guide though, someone who could teach her the responsibilities of power and guide her through the political battles, someone who could connect with her and make her more comfortable than an old man could. Especially when that old man had to exercise the same care of responsibility and politics, run a school, and teach Neville when the time was right.

Dumbledore smiled to himself as he watched the way the girl handled Parkinson with ease and the storm of her magic settled back to its usual levels as her anger bled away; he had to admit to himself that she was on the path already. But children were malleable and could change from moment to moment, especially with the likes of a Malfoy whispering into their ear.

The corridor faded from view and left him staring back at the expanse of the castle once more before he strode back towards his desk, his fingers trailing over the leather bindings of Beedle the Bard though it was only a children's book to the eyes, he knew what was really hidden beneath that innocent guise. He knew of no guide better for Iris than himself but he could not be in two places at once… at least not yet.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**March 6, 1993**

In the days following the disaster that was Valentine's Day attention had returned to Iris though not in the same manner that it had been before the winter holidays, it seemed instead that the students followed her with eyes that held a newfound respect for the Second Year witch. Of course there were still some who viewed her with fear or outright hostility but they had become the minority.

Pansy made no move to apologize for her actions but then again, no one really expected her to, but she had left Iris alone and kept her posse at bay; choosing to watch the Gryffindor with a wary interest. Daphne had reported that a few of the Slytherins had been around to see what had happened in the Charms corridor and how they had been surprised that she had not only the restraint to not hex Parkinson but that she had outplayed her at her own game.

On the other hand, not everyone cared much for treating her differently than before unless you counted trying to push her to the brink of exhaustion as Oliver Wood increased the number of practices they held each week, which not only kept her from her dueling lessons with Professor Riddle but nearly prevented her from completing her assignments. The only thing that made up for it at all was the weather was losing its cold bite and had started to feel more like spring proper.

But as the days ticked by, Iris couldn't help but feel an increasing anxiety or the impending sense of dread that was slowly filling her stomach with lead as no new attacks were reported. Pansy should have been the next target for the stalker but it hadn't claimed her yet, not that she particularly wanted the girl put in the Hospital Wing but it was a break in the pattern and she didn't know why that was.

On a positive note at least was that Madam Pomfrey had found a way to help the other victims, she had discovered a polymorphic stasis charm in the form of very subtle magical venom. All the potions and charms to heal the wounds had encountered the venom's magic and been unable to do anything but now that she had discovered the problem she was researching a means of neutralizing the venom and restoring the students to health.

That discovery had sent Hermione and Daphne straight to the library though as they tried to figure out what kind of snake could create such venom and since it had a magical component they were focusing their research on magical creatures. It also reinforced Daphne's position that these attacks were not the result of the Trial but someone who had dredged up the legend and was using it for their own purposes and had been focusing on Iris.

"What has me concerned though is that the stalker hasn't done anything to Parkinson, after the stunt she pulled you think he would have been all over her. If he isn't going after Iris' enemies any more than it's likely he's fed up with the game." Daphne confessed on the first Saturday of March while they were sitting at their usual table in the library, the clear skies of spring letting in ample light through the tall arched windows at their backs.

"That's fine, I'm sick of having to be worried that whoever it is following me is going after every person that I have a row with or says something mean about me!" Iris said quietly but with firmness to her voice that she meant what she said; she still had not confided in her friends that the voice that she had heard was both serpentine and female.

"That's actually what's bothering me the most, from what I've read this sounds like transitional behavior. If he hasn't managed to get you to acknowledge him by going after your enemies his next step is to go after your friends or you personally." Hermione replied in the same quiet voice that Madam Pince was unlikely to get upset about if she overheard them.

That revelation gave Iris some pause and the prickly sensation that there was an invisible knife blade being held just by her throat; it was not a nice feeling. Especially since it was augmented by the guilt that she yet to confide in her friends about her encounters with the Judge in the dungeon nor the voice she had heard on Halloween.

But if she told them would the Stalker take offense at having her identity revealed and attack them out of spite or would it content her that she was being acknowledged and being spoken about? There was no telling what would happen and that was something that went against Iris' instincts, to do something without considering the risks or putting others in harm's way.

She could still tell them to keep their distance from her in the future so that they wouldn't make themselves targets of the Stalker and that was a good enough reason for her to draw her wand and go through the complicated warding pattern as she whispered "_Mutumundi_" under her breath.

A circle of pale golden light ringed the table before spreading upwards to form a bubble of warm sunlight around them that silenced the world within its reach to any trying to listen in and turning aside the eyes of those who would look upon them.

Blaise cocked his eyebrow as the spell settled around them and he whistled softly in surprise at the sudden quiet as the ambient noise of turning pages or scribbling quills were cut off from around them, "Impressive magic leonessa, where did you learn something like that?"

"She read about it of course, what do you think she does at home over the breaks? Relax? Come off it mate, she's loathe to the very concept of not doing anything." Draco answered the question with his drawling voice even as Iris opened her mouth to reply, which earned the boy a glare that he just smirked at it.

"Never mind where I learned the damned spell, all you need to know is that it provides absolute privacy. Now, if Hermione says that the Stalker is going to be getting more violent towards the people I care about, you all have to start drawing away from me! I won't have you getting hurt!" Iris stated firmly as she removed her gaze from Draco and swept it across the table in what might have been an intimidating gesture if not for the fixed stares of the others.

"You know sis, I've always admired your intelligence; but sometimes you can be quite thick." Liatris looked at her sister with an exasperated fondness that should not belong on an eleven year old face but was somehow there despite that.

"Honestly Iris, after everything we've been through together; you think that this guy is going to care if we suddenly stop being friends with you. He's violent but not stupid, every attack he made has been from ambush and he takes away the memories of those he attacks. He's smart enough to know that if we didn't abandon you after the dueling club incident that we're just playing safe now." Blaise said as he leaned forward and steepled his fingers under his chin, his elbows resting on the table as he fixed his amber gaze on the girl across from him.

She blinked in surprise at the calm refusal that her friends were showing her and a part of her insisted that it was just an unreasoned denial that she would have to strip bare for them to see and then they would back away from her smartly. Even with that conviction though it took her a few attempts of opening and closing her mouth in what must have been an excellent imitation of a gaping fish by the way that Blaise was smiling at her before she managed a coherent rebuttal.

"Even if we assume that my stalker is intelligent, which we don't know for sure at this point, but if she is then you have to understand that she is dangerous. Even if we presume that she's not going to fall for the distance between us, it's better to at least bring up the façade of us being less friendly since it could mean that the possibility of avoiding an attack exists." Iris glanced over at her little sister and felt the stirring of her protectiveness raising its head as the younger girl gave her a comforting smile even as her features reassembled into the implacable stubbornness that she had inherited from their mother.

"Of course, I'll have to keep Lia as close as possible because there's no way that we'd fool anyone into believing that we aren't as close as we are. But at least the rest of you have a chance to be a little bit safer if you distance yourselves from me." She persisted more forcefully as she shifted her attention back to her other friends but the looks they were sharing with each other were not the kind that she had been looking for.

They were not the glances of people who had been swayed by a logical argument but the kind of looks that sharks must share with one another when they smelt blood in the water, the gazes seemed to settle as Daphne gave a nod of her head and then fixed Iris with a look of such fierceness that she wanted to look away as a flush was rising into her cheeks.

"Your suggestion has merit but that would also mean that it separates you from us and makes you an easier target. It would be more conducive for all of our safety if we remain as close together as possible; your stalker might be able to take out two Ravenclaws but the odds of six people going down are less likely. But more interestingly, why do you say the stalker is a she Iris?" Daphne asked easily, her voice light and unimpressive as if the answer was of no real consequence.

Which was probably why Iris fell into the easy comfort of responding to such a reasonable question, "Because I've heard her befo—" her teeth clicked together quickly as she bit off her words and glared at Daphne with a look that was half astonishment and half betrayal. Astonishment that she had let that information slip away from her without thinking and betrayed because only Daphne would know the way to draw that information from her on reflex after long years of familiarity.

"Were you going to tell us that before or after you lured her out into attacking you?" Daphne asked in that same cool and light way though there was definitely the hint of steel under the softness now, like a blade covered in silk. From the way her friends were staring, Iris knew that they wouldn't rest until she confessed to them but on the other hand she really wanted to have Professor Riddle's help if she was going to be breaking her silence on some of her secrets.

She would tell them nothing about Hecate or the nature of her soul and definitely not the Ring of Obedience, the very idea of them knowing that information caused pinpricks of pain to flash along her tongue and the inside of her throat like the stings of wasps so she perished the train of thought before it could incapacitate her and focused on what she could tell them.

Telling them about her Parseltongue ability seemed like a fair trade and considering how Hermione and Ron had responded to the same information than just maybe it would work to drive her friends away from her and protect them in the doing. Keeping them safe was worth their friendship and affection if she was honest with herself.

"I would have told you when it became necessary for you to know and since I know you won't let this rest then I'll just let you know now!" Iris tried to make her voice as scathing as possible and felt a twinge of satisfaction that was quickly marred by guilt at the way they flinched from her words.

"I heard the voice of my stalker on Samhain night, she was talking about keeping me as her treasure when Professor Riddle and I found Longbottom and Weasley by the carved up wall. Before you ask, I know for a fact only Professor Riddle and I heard the voice and that was the reason why this information hasn't spread completely around the school already. I know that for a fact because as far as I know, only two Parselmouths were in that hallway!" Iris did her very best to make that pronouncement as vicious as she could, letting her voice drop to just above a whisper and all but hissing the last part of the statement.

Then she figured what the heck and why not actually do some hissing to prove her point, so she focused her gaze on the snake lapel that Draco always wore and allowing the rasping language to flow as she recited nonsense to the silver pendant about what nosy company she kept.

Lifting her gaze from the snake she met the shocked stares of her friends and sister as she leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms in what she felt was an appropriately stoic position as she adopted the familiar bored expression that she saw on Riddle's face whenever he had to speak to anybody he disapproved of; which was basically everyone but Iris.

This time around it took them a few moments to absorb the information but the overall response was not what it should have been, Liatris gave her sister an accepting smile which was the one thing that Iris guessed correctly. The others had none of the shocked disgust or outrage they should have; instead Hermione had a look that screamed academic interest as if she had found a new book that would teach her something remarkable.

The Slytherins wore a mixture of expressions ranging from fascinated awe to schooled neutrality but all of them were excited to have someone with the same Dark gift as the Founder of their House sitting at the table with them.

Once they recovered from the initial disbelief and retrieved their tongues from the Kneazel that stole them, the lot of them began to fire out questions as rapidly as possible wanting to know everything about her ability to speak to serpents and how the information was going to help them catch the stalker now that they knew they weren't looking for a person that could carve up walls but some kind of magical creature.

In the end Iris gave in to defeat, it seemed she had friends that were not only entirely unperturbed by the fact that she possessed an ability normally reserved for Dark wizards but were excited over it. She supposed that she should have expected as much considering the households that Draco and Blaise came from, Daphne came from a family that was known for their tolerances and neutrality so again it wasn't much of a surprise that she would take in stride. Hermione would just see this as being able to learn more about the Wizarding world and Liatris was her sister, and with that came an unconditional love.

Now that she thought about it, Iris really couldn't understand why she had thought her friends would reject this aspect of her or why it would drive them away from her. As she turned those thoughts upon themselves, she could feel the faintest of tugging at the corner of her mind but whenever she tried to peer into that section it seemed to dodge just out of sight.

The Ring's defenses had never been so subtle as this and so Iris assumed that it could very well be the actual compulsion itself, some command that intended for her to distrust her friends otherwise separate her from them. It was very possible that the Headmaster was trying to isolate her from her friends and make her more subjective to his influence, but he had no idea what she was capable of. He was going to regret his decisions even if she had to break—

Iris clenched her teeth as pain lanced up her arm from her hand and she pushed the shock of it down one of the pitfalls in her mental defenses before she could cry out. Instead she released a heavy breath that might have been a sigh to her friends' ears as she glanced down at her right hand which was hidden under the table in her lap, the pinky finger jutting out at an unnatural angle.

A nonverbal _Episkey _wrenched the offended digit back into place, the pain once more forced into silence before it had the chance to draw a physical reaction; but she could feel the furnace of her hatred burning ever hotter at the additional fuel. Her left hand reached into her pocket and began to run the metal links between her fingers again as she tended to the flames that burned within her.

Hidden in the folds of her clothing, she never noticed the indigo gleam of the runes etched into the bracelet or the gradual heat that built up in the red gold as hatred called to hatred.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

**March 19, 1993**

Over a month had passed since the unmitigated disaster that had been Valentine's Day and nearly two since Ginny had torn the bracelet from Neville's wrist and cast it away over a silly argument.

Well perhaps it wasn't all that silly from her point of view and he had to admit that while it had taken him a week to come to the realization himself, he had been a massive arse in treating her like a consolation prize rather than as a person he genuinely liked and wanted to have around him. And if he was honest with himself, the fact that one of her elder brothers was his best friend had been a motivating factor in pulling his head out of the sand.

On the other hand, the Weasley twins were much scarier than Ron and the fact that every time they had seen him they had narrowed their eyes at him and begun discussing something very quietly. Their disposition had been much improved towards him when he apologized to their sister in the Gryffindor Common Room and they were once more the friendly pranksters they had always been.

Still, he couldn't help but be disappointed that Ginny had been unable to give him back the bracelet like she had promised to do after he apologized to her; he felt naked without it considering he had worn it for so long that there was a noticeable difference in the color of his skin for a while.

But it was more than just the feeling of discomfort of not having it that concerned him but how it seemed as though he had lost some of the respect he had earned from his schoolmates and it felt like their regard was steadily declining as he no longer possessed the sure confidence of knowing just what to say to them to capture their interest.

He knew it was silly to think that the loss of a bracelet had anything to do with his charisma or anything else for that matter; he was no Samson after all but someone of inherent strength. He carried himself and dealt with other people as he saw fit, it was just that he felt perturbed without the bracelet that he had lost some of that self-confidence and thus incapable of presenting the magnetism that he had displayed before.

That was what he had believed at first but months had past and he had it truly felt like all of his skills had fled from him, as he couldn't even keep Iris focused on him anymore; where he had once been able to handle her attention deftly and make her flustered he was now fumbling and tongue tied like some incompetent child.

It was absolutely intolerable and now even his marks were suffering now; as long as he had worn the bracelet things had just clicked in his mind as if he already knew how to do the things in the lessons. Charms had been a breeze and Transfiguration had been nearly too easy allowing him to earn points in those classes for the first time since he had started at Hogwarts and had even earning himself some pats on the back from his classmates. Now he was right back where he used to be and it felt like everyone thought his improved skill was just a fluke.

He detested this feeling of inferiority, how was he going to get anyone to believe in him as the future leader of the Light and as the Boy Who Lived if he couldn't manage to get the Exceeds Expectations in his Potions work no matter how grudgingly Snape had to give them out.

It only irritated him further that he constantly felt like the bracelet was close by almost as though it were whispering to him but from beneath a cloth and thus indistinct and muffled. There were brief moments where he heard the whisper sharply and then it vanished as though it had found someone else to tell its secrets too. It was driving him mad to think that someone else was holding onto all of those abilities that he had lost and that they were always around him but impossible to find.

He held his silence on the matter, refusing to letting anyone know his inner thoughts; after all his step-mother had told him that the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement should never express any concerns that he was unequal to the task his future demanded of him. He had defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald, the Dark Teacher and Master of Lord Voldemort himself; the Dark Lord who had gone to ground in the wake of his superior's demise.

Neville was destined for greatness and he could not allow himself to be seen as weak, the Minister of Magic was not a weak man and he could hold that title if he decided he wanted it. He couldn't demand the position even if he was destined for it however, there were certain proprieties to be observed but once he served as an Auror and was promoted to the Head of the Aurors and he would be as it was the rightful place for someone so gifted at defeating Dark Lords, let alone Dark Wizards considering how easy it had been to defeat Zabini.

Once he succeeded his father as the Head of the DMLE it would only be a hop and a skip until he was in the Minister's chair. It was his destiny, his fate to be powerful and renowned for his magnanimity as the Savior of the Wizarding World. All he had to do was wait for it to happen but it would not do for it to be simply given to him, he needed to show people that he deserved that position and that meant being the best.

True he was already the best in the things that mattered but people would want to see him as an having been an exceptional student in the subjects he didn't find interesting, like Herbology and Defense. So why was it that he couldn't brew better than an Acceptable or turn a rat into a goblet with precision without the bracelet when he had done it so well just a few months ago.

He deserved to be that good all the time and damn anyone who thought different, besides he was the Chosen One. The rules didn't apply to him unless he chose to allow them to apply to him so other people wouldn't be jealous, his step mother said so.

So he felt completely justified in going through each of the trunks in his dormitory and rummaging through the assorted belongings as quickly as possible without making a mess. He was tempted to just tear through the room without a care but he knew that if someone reported the room getting tossed that McGonagall wouldn't treat him the way he deserved; she couldn't subject herself to favoritism even though he knew that she had to like him more than everyone else.

Well… maybe she liked Iris and Hermione as much as he since they were so good in the class, their marks and abilities had proven that they had earned the right to be in the same league as him. Even if Hermione was a Muggleborn, not that he had anything against her for that, it wasn't as though he was some bigoted Slytherin he just knew that most of them weren't that good at magic or that smart.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he had limited time to search the dorm before everyone returned from dinner and he knew the bracelet was among his Second Year housemates. Besides he was excited to see what would happen tonight, Ginny had told him that she had plans to make nice with Iris since she knew now that he didn't like the ebony haired witch more than her and wanted them both to be his friends.

He was sure that she had said more than just that but he really hadn't paid very much attention past that point since he had been in the middle of a chess game with Ron and the boy had worn that expression on his face that said he was about to make a move that would guarantee him a victory and he had wanted to stop that. But Lavender had made all the appropriate noises that said she had been paying attention and listening to what the redhead had to say about it.

He supposed he would have to make an effort to do that once he found the bracelet again, be more considerate and listen more attentively that is; it wouldn't be good for his image if everyone thought he was some kind of self-centered git. Lockhart had told him that and that man knew a thing or two about presenting a public image.

But he couldn't help that his thoughts were just gravitating to that damn bracelet, he felt better with it on; smarter and more capable at everything and that was a good thing. How could it be a bad thing to feel like a better wizard and not just because he was better off but because everyone would be better off if he was better off too.

He growled to himself as he finished searching the Second Year boy's dorm since he had not yet found the bracelet on this side of the tower so far and he knew it was either in here, in the girl's dorm or in someone's pockets.

Neville nodded to himself and kicked one of his textbooks back against his trunk where he liked to keep them and left the room with the intention of making straight for the other set of stairs before anyone could come back to the Tower. The Common Room was still empty but a quickly conjured _Tempus _told him that it wasn't going to last much longer.

Aiming himself at the other staircase he raced forward taking the stairs in twos and even managing to get half way up before his bounding leap hit glassy smooth stone rather than the jutting step he had expected. There was the sudden rush of blind panic that came from taking a step in the pitch black and not finding what you were looking for as your foot fell through empty space and then he was scrambling and flailing for some kind of purchase before he finally went sliding down the way he had come up and found himself back at the foot of the stone steps nursing a bruised tailbone as the steps mockingly moved back into their natural position.

"Stupid castle!" He muttered to himself as he glared at the steps with a look that might have broken stone but failed as a flash of pain danced along his spine and he was positive that the steps were grinding together as the laughed at his injured backside. He picked himself up off the floor with curse and limped over to the couch in front of the fireplace and sank down on the cushions gingerly.

And it was fortunate that he did so since he heard the portrait swing open to provide admittance, it would have been embarassing if that person had discovered him lying on the floor in front of the stairs to the girl's dorm. He wondered who it was though and shimmied to the edge of the couch to peer around the back more easily and as he did so he could hear the whispering of the bracelet unfettered by cloth or people.

It promised power and glory and knowledge, that all he had to do was put it on and listen to directions and everything he wanted would come to pass. Visions of the Ministry handing control over to him and people praising him as Vanquisher of Dark Lords filled his head and he could see the reverent gazes of his professors and classmates on him, Muggleborns like Granger and Creevy were looking up at him worshipfully as their defender.

Neville eagerly accepted those promises he would wear that bracelet with pride and give it whatever it wanted in exchange for all that it had to offer as he peeked out behind the red fabric of the couch and saw Iris standing in the middle of the Common Room with the bracelet clenched in her hand and a sleepy, half-lidded look on her face as she whispered gibberish back at the bracelet.

Longbottom was frozen on the edge of the cushion as he tried to hear what Iris was saying but the only thing that rang in his ears was a faint hissing that seemed full of inflection and meaning that he could not decipher. What he could make out as he leaned forward was a second set of promises, quieter than those it offered him, and it whispered about hatred and pain and revenge.

Iris smiled.

It was not a pretty smile, the kind she had on when someone said something humorous or when Professor Riddle complimented her in class. This was more of a baring of teeth, wicked and vicious in a way that shouldn't be possible and that was different from any light he had seen her in before.

He gave a soft gasp, a tremulous exhalation of breath that held all of his astonishment.

And emerald eyes blazing with a light he had never seen before fixed on him and drowned him in pools of rage and pain that should not belong there; those were feelings reserved for older people who had gone through the horrors of war and conflict. He could not tear himself away from those eyes even as veins of gold bloomed from the flecks that had settled like drops of sunlight in fields of green and they ferried him to battlefields ancient and far into the future.

It lasted only for a moment but in the wake of those visions he found himself trembling and weak kneed, unable to utter a word even as her gaze returned to the bracelet and the whispering increased in its urgency, promises upon promises and the price was so easy to give.

Already he could feel the wash of hot breath that reeked of rotted and bloated flesh as it fanned across the back of his neck, his stomach churned and the taste of bile gathered at the back of his throat. The sudden weight of claws landing gently on his skin drove him to utter stillness and he could feel himself choking on the urge to vomit but daring not to as memories of students in the Hospital Wing with wounds that never healed and agony that made their throats bleed from screaming unless constantly sedated.

All the rumors of Iris attacking her enemies had been true, she was the one who had invoked the Trial and used it to attack her enemies and now she was surely going to kill him for discovering the truth. Him, the Boy Who Lived was going to be the next victim in her reign of terror as a new Dark Lady was born.

He wanted to fight and struggle against that but a hiss, sharp and clear and right beside his left ear turned his bones to ice and he knew he could not move even as a chuckle rumbled against his back.

"You think she is the one who bid us to attack her enemies? Who made us carve their guilt upon the flesh for all the world to see?" The voice that questioned him was deep and brought a fresh wave of the heat and stink of carrion as it sounded opposite of the hiss, a cool wetness ran along the shell of his ear as a tongue like sandpaper moved against his flesh.

"No little one, she does not command us nor did you when you asked us to cut her foes; the one who broke her arm even as you were the cause of her suffering. Wagering your freedom on a game you don't control and leaving your champion at the mercy of others is quite selfish little one." Again a deep chuckle sounded that seemed to vibrate the very marrow of his bones, his eyes wavering between Iris and the portrait that would surely free him from this dilemma.

"Do not fear intrusion, the Trial grants us solitude even now; your staircases move to keep your fellows away and hidden passageways find themselves leading to new places. We are quite alone here, even as those two children were as you bade us to slip into their rooms in the night and tear them ever so prettily for insulting our Treasure.

"But we saw the harm our actions caused; saw how everyone shunned our Treasure, made her feel all alone and unwanted. The Judge wants to fix that so we cannot rip and tear like we have, we must wait and then we can rip and tear again but in a way that everyone sees her as our Treasure and embraces her."

Neville swallowed thickly as the voice growled at the idea of having to share Iris but he could not bring himself to turn his head and look at whatever creature held him captive, the voice kept saying that he had made it attack the students or that the Judge had made him make it attack the students. But he would know if he had done something like that. Wouldn't he?

He was a Gryffindor after all, he would face his opponents openly and as the Boy Who Lived he would defeat them and make them apologize for being mean to Iris but he wouldn't be some Slytherin and find someone else to do his dirty work. That wasn't brave and heroic at all!

So obviously this thing must be lying, he was sure of that now even if he should have realized it sooner. But then Iris was standing right there, completely ignoring the fact that he was in danger and she was Gryffindor's Princess; the best Seeker they had ever had, top of the class too and had gone with him to face Quirrel last year. So surely she was biding her time in an effort to rescue him and they would be heroes again, he'd even let her have some of the credit for making her plan on the fly like this.

But when she looked at him again, her eyes were no longer blazing as they had been as her emotions were running rampant through her; in fact they looked glazed behind the half-lidded expression. Then he noticed that the whispering was soft again, promising and reassuring her and all he could make out were the words freedom and vengeance.

The words seemed to please her since she smiled as she approached Neville and held out the bracelet to him, showing him for the first time the miasma of purple light that seemed to emanate from the runes etched into the metal. The light filled him with a terror and loathing that he had not known before and he tried to retreat against the wall of powerful flesh and claws that were at his back.

Dimly he was aware of the monster's chuckle and a hissing laughter as panic began to plow through him and he tried to wrench himself away from the bracelet as Iris drew nearer and he found his arm rising of its own accord towards it, arteries of that same purple light glowing beneath his skin and brightening in response to the proximity to the bracelet.

"Don't worry Neville, everything will be all right; you'll see. You'll get your glory and I'll get my freedom and everything will work out fine." Iris said encouragingly as she placed the red gold links against his flesh and the clasp clicked into place of its own accord. Neville could feel his pulse surging in his ears now, barely able to make out the words the Iris had said and then he felt as though he was being pushed into a corner of his own mind as some foreign entity seemed to seize ahold of his brain.

"Of course everything will be alright Iris; the Judge is here to take care of you now." He felt his mouth say as his arm drew the wand that was resting in his pocket and tapped it against her forehead gently, "_Oblivispectum_"

The surge of magic that rolled through his body felt like tar, thick and dirty and staining and he could feel the unicorn hair in his wand struggling against the Dark magic but it finally shuddered and let loose a dark blue mist finally emerged from the end of the wand and bore into the girl's eyes and nose and mouth until there was no trace left of it.

Neville could feel his mouth twist into a gentle smile, "Ginny apologized Iris so you returned the bracelet to Neville just like you said you would, now go on to bed. Remember, your Teacher is very proud of you."

Neville could do nothing but watch as Iris nodded stiffly and then turned to climb the staircase to her bedroom, probably off to go to sleep as she had been directed to. "No need to fret dear boy, I've got everything under control; soon you'll be at the head of your class again right beside Iris and her Mudblood friend. You'll find that the older students who've been forgetting about once more drawn to you and Ginny much more amendable to my wishes."

The Judge watched as Iris disappeared from sight before snapping his fingers so that the monster vanished from the room and the castle gave a slight shudder as the Trial ceased to interfere. Even as he took the seat that Neville had claimed on the couch the Judge was thinking about how pleasant his stay with the girl had been, Dumbledore had done him quite the service getting the girl to hate that fiercely. Powerful emotions shared between individuals always made it easier to possess people and the plan was coming together nicely.

Now all he needed was a nice cup of tea to settle the stirrings of the headache that Longbottom was causing by pounding on the prison of his thoughts.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Moving into the endgame now, I think there will be two chapters left before this story wraps up and then we can get into the interlude between books 2 and 3. I want to thank those of you who have been sticking out this project of mine and I hope you're enjoying it.

Feel free to leave a review and any questions you might have so that I can answer them if I feel like they won't give too much away.

**Next Chapter: **_Approaching the End_


	17. Chapter XV

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **Thank you all for the support and the reviews, I'm really liking the way this story is turning out and how much you guys are enjoying what I'm writing. Feel free to leave your comments and questions.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XV**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland**

**March 20, 1993**

There are days when you wake up and the light streaming through the curtains calls you to action and other days it makes you roll over and curl deeper into the cocoon of sheets and blankets and ignore it for another hour of sleep.

Then there are days when the warm rays of spring sunlight stab through the cornea of your eyes like white hot brands, searing the optic nerve and sending you reeling with pain but the very action of movement causes horrendous agony as your brain sloshes in its cavity and informs you swiftly that your best bet is to smother yourself with a pillow and beg for a quick death.

Iris was more than willing to oblige such thoughts at the moment as purple spots danced in her vision like mocking pixies. She was fairly sure she had muttered a curse or two which was enough to rouse Hermione from her Saturday morning habit of organizing her notes from the week by subject and binding them together for end of the year revising.

She drew back the hangings from around Iris' bed, the metal rings sliding along the bar with the sound of stampede of centaurs in the girl's ear, and peeked in to see what could have possibly roused such foul language from her best friend. The brunette took one look, turned on her heel and walked out of the room altogether.

Iris knew because she could hear the shuffle of stockings on stone as the girl left the room as quietly as possible, a feat that qualified her for sainthood as far as Iris was concerned though the reappearance of the sound, in the form of the much heavier thuds of a pair of Mary Janes that moved at a clipped pace to her bed side and attempted to pull away the pillow that was shielding her.

There was a brief struggle, which mainly involved sounds of disapproval on both sides before the pillow was taken and Iris was forced to bury her nose in the crook of her elbow and shield her eyes and in the doing got a glimpse of Angelina Johnson hovering over her with a vial of bright blue potion and Hermione at her shoulder, the former had a look of amusement and mild concern, that latter was more concerned and mildly bemused.

It was the Chaser eased Iris into a sitting position so that she could swallow the potion that she had brought with her, the taste of mint and blueberry rolled over her taste buds and eased the splitting headache that had greeted. The sigh of relief that escaped Iris was matched only by her gratitude for her heroine, and when she said as much she managed to get the older girl to laugh.

"It's the least I could do after Wood drilled you so hard at practice, he forgets that people need to actually eat dinner rather than play through it. Me and the others will have a word with him about working our Seeker into the Hospital Wing." Angelina let her know with a wink before departing, waving off the thank you from Hermione with a smile.

Iris carefully maneuvered herself to the edge of the bed and managed to extricate herself from the now too hot coverings and winced at the leftover pain that seemed to pull at the back of her eyes if she moved suddenly but compared to what had been cured, it was far more bearable.

"I had no idea that Quidditch practice could be so grueling to leave you laid up like that." Hermione commented quietly as Iris padded to the bathroom since she'd had a late and thoroughly unpleasant start to her day but she managed a reply even as she turned the faucet on to brush her teeth.

"It normally doesn't but then again we don't normally play through dinner and then get accosted by smarmy twit of a girl who thinks that just because Longbottom is treating her like a person and not a lapdog that I'm suddenly below her!" That was all she could say before she began to scrub at her teeth with a bit more vigor then was strictly warranted but it wasn't like Hermione was going to make a point of it, even if her parents were dentists.

Instead she thought about how Ginny had waited for her outside the locker room last night and how she had greeted her using the forms of ancient Protocol that had dictated the courtesies that had been observed among wizards for generations and still persevered in the heritage of the purebloods.

But from the inception of the meeting things had been set on an unavoidable path of catastrophe as the redhead curtsied shallowly in the way that a younger witch greeting an older witch using the subtle flourishes of her right hand as she released the fabric of her robes that signified someone of great fortune addressing someone of lesser standing.

There were dozens of connotations that such a gesture might indicate but very few actual denotations and since Ginny was not from a wealthier or a politically stronger family nor was she married or betrothed, Iris had been willing to believe the gesture had been done erroneously. After all, the Protocols were over a thousand years old and only used in the most formal of events among the Light families or those families of vast age that still taught their children in accordance with the Old Ways.

That willingness to give her the benefit of the doubt was quickly swept away by the nature of her apology; the haughtiness that flavored her voice would have been enough but when Ginny expressed her condolences for taking the place of Gryffindor's Princess by taking her place at Neville's side where Iris could have been if she was willing to bend her neck to the boy savior.

The urge to attack the arrogant redhead had filled her then and she had briefly debated between cursing her or repeating the lesson she learned from her father and delivering a hay maker. As much as she liked those ideas, Ginny had begun the altercation with Protocol and that was the way it needed to end, especially on the eve of the vernal equinox; a day when the declaration of combat was most apt.

So she had instead returned a slight bow without removing her stare from the younger witch's eyes as she clasped her right hand into a fist and held it over her sternum as she intoned the ritual words of challenge, "May you walk in the Light's embrace as you step onto the field of battle."

She had walked away from the Quidditch pitch that night feeding the anger of the insult to the furnace where she stored her hatred, an inferno that burned hot as the sun; shielded by the steel confines that sheltered it and kept in the basement of her thoughts with Occlumency.

Still the girl had given her an apology and that had been the conditions with which she would give back the bracelet, but she simply could not give it to Ginny. So she had clenched the red gold all the way to Gryffindor Tower and given it back to Neville, she wanted nothing to do with the thing anymore knowing that it constantly reminded her of the girl he kept beside him all the time.

Something about that seemed wrong though but she had been so twisted up with outrage that she hadn't been able to see straight last night, it had been like walking through the castle with a monster at her heels ready to bite anyone who had thought to get in her way. She couldn't rightly say she had been in a frame of mind to acknowledge anything that had transpired last night and it had probably been the emotions and the exhaustion and the skipping of dinner that had prompted the mother of all migraines this morning.

Still, when she spit out her tooth paste and noted the faint pinkness of it and the way her gums were bleeding slightly from the scraping of the bristles it occurred to her that brushing her teeth in the grips of anger were probably not a good idea and the scolding she got from Hermione when she peeked into the bathroom was a reinforcement of that belief.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland<strong>

**April 10, 1993**

In the weeks that passed after the vernal equinox tension was steadily mounting in Gryffindor Tower as Iris and Ginny circled each other, what had happened between the two of them had spread through the common room. The prefects had already attempted to put an end to what they perceived of as childish behavior between two girls over a boy had quickly transformed into one hotheaded little girl needing to be taught a lesson by someone angry enough to drill the information through her thick skull.

At least that was what Liatris took it to mean after Percy threw his hands up in disgust after talking to his little sister, it was only the umpteenth time that he had made an effort to reconcile the two girls though she knew that her own sister would never concede to abasing herself or compromising on anything less than an actual apology from Ginny and who could blame her for that.

So Liatris did her best to keep anyone else from trying to get into the conflict, which had meant courting Neville's entourage and telling them that helping Ginny would not get them places into their leader's good graces. It had also meant trying to convince Neville that he needed to take Ginny aside and straighten her out since he was probably the only person that could get through to her at this point.

It was something that the witch could not understand; it was obvious to her that Ginny was in love with a concept, the real Neville was an arrogant, egotistical prick that really needed to be deflated every now and again for his own good. Sure he was the 'Vanquisher of the Dark' according to the old clippings that she had seen in the Potter library, but he was still a jerk most of the time and no one was going to follow him if he couldn't get his head out of his arse.

Talking to the Boy Who Lived though was rather like not talking to him at all, ever since he had gotten that bracelet back it was all he could do to talk to the older students that were going to be graduating after taking their N.E.W.T.'s and woo them into keeping up their correspondence with him. She could see that networking would be useful to him but still it was frustrating to see that because she was a year below him that she didn't rate the time it took to listen to her.

So she had given up that pursuit for folly and looked to the other Weasley's to talk their sister into reasonableness but they had all told her the same thing: Ginny was a force of nature, a mind of her own and a strength of will like stampeding hippogriffs; the only thing that would get her to change her mind was for their mother to bring down the wrath of her temper or for someone to produce incontrovertible evidence that she was absolutely wrong.

None of them were willing to owl their mother about what was going on because they didn't want to embarrass their baby sister but neither could they convince her that she was in the wrong of the matter when Neville was constantly whispering into her ear and probably stirring up trouble.

The whole situation was infuriating and frustrating and it was trying Liatris' patience, a trait she did not possess in abundance if she was being honest and since she could devise pranks that could turn the Weasley twins green with envy it was all she could do not to humiliate her roommate for the good of all and sundry.

So she had decided to do the next best thing which was to apply herself to something productive which happened to be throwing herself into her private training with her Head of House. Lily Potter had written to Professor McGonagall and asked her to give her daughter some lessons so that she would feel more comfortable and safe in a period where students were being attacked in the school.

Minerva had not only taught the woman but had fought beside her in war, whatever bonds those two women had forged was enough to make the stern Professor take up the extra duty and try to turn Liatris into a competent duelist. It helped that the girl shared her father's knack for Transfiguration which was the woman's specialty and quite effective when someone knew what they were doing.

But the private tutoring was more than just fancy wand work and incantations, as McGonagall insisted that she learn the theory and philosophy and ethics of fighting; it wasn't enough to be capable of turning your opponent into a tadpole but to know when it was right to do so and when a show of force was enough to convince the opposition to retreat.

As such, she found that she spent quite a bit of time in the library reading books on Transfiguration and the history of warfare that had affected the Wizarding War. So while the rest of the school was outside on the Quidditch Pitch, rallying on the teams that would be taking the field she was still inside reading.

In doing so, Liatris found that there had been quite the number of conflicts that had nothing to do with goblin rebellions or troll skirmishes that Professor Binns was content to drone on and on about in his class while the stories about the Dark Lords and Light Lords who had waged war on each other were conveniently allowed to be forgotten.

The histories and philosophies showed how the Light demanded things to be constant, ordered and controlled while the Dark argued for change, chaos and wildness. At least they defined themselves in part by those principles there was more to it than just that alone as Light magic also dealt with truth and illumination and preservation of life. The Dark made it easier to deceive and hide and to destroy.

All of it was enough to make Liatris' head spin but it did teach her that both sides had been wrong before, Light Lords had sought before to impose tyranny and oppression and been overthrown by Dark Lords even as other Dark Lords had sought to bring about anarchy and devastation which in turn required them to be put down as well.

It showed her that neither side was inherently good or evil and that it was startling because while she had heard it before from Professor Riddle it was one thing to know it on an intellectual level and another to really believe it.

It also showed her why certain laws had been put into effect, like the Ban on Experimental Breeding; how some of those creatures had been used by both Light and Dark Lords to terrorize the populace of different wizarding communities and thus gaining power. They could make the problem go away and recruit from a thankful community to add to their followers and political powers, and it always took an incredibly powerful wizard or witch to make some of the more powerful creatures.

Creatures like the basilisk and the chimera who were inherently magical and could kill or maim with ease and thus the most effective for combat. Creatures like the chimera could be created by someone especially talented in alchemy and could balance the magical properties of life and flesh to suit whatever need that was required; they could be bodyguards or assassins, or guardians of treasure.

It took a moment but epiphanies of thought required everything to fall into place just so to allow the mind to make a leap from uncertainty to definitive justification and that was all the prompting Liatris needed to rip the page from the treatise she was reading, making a mental note of the title as she slammed the book shut and rose from her seat to inform McGonagall what was attacking the students.

She managed to make it most of the length of the aisle before she felt a sharp pain in her calf and the sudden rush of ice water flowing through her leg, depriving her of all sensation in the limb. She went sprawling to the floor with a soundless cry as a band of iron seemed to settle around her throat and steal her voice.

"Oh Lia, I have to admit that I was not expecting you to discover my little secret. I was so hoping it would be Granger, Mudblood that she is I really wouldn't have felt the tiniest bit of remorse for what I was going to do to her." Neville's voice fell upon her like a blow, really who else could the stalker have been; no one was as obsessed with her sister as the arrogant prick.

Well maybe Professor Riddle but now was not the time to let her mind wander away from the predicament, so she pulled her wand free from its holster in her sleeve and twisted around on the ground to face the boy at her back as she came up on her elbow. It was a poor position to defend herself from but she wasn't going to just lay down and be a victim.

It also gave her the chance to see her attacker, probably the first of his victims to be able to do so but this wasn't the Neville she was used to seeing; his voice was deeper, older and as she watched his face it seemed as though there was a second one in the same place.

The second face was that of a young man in his early twenties, with intense ultramarine eyes and well sculpted features that gave him an aristocratic appearance. It was the face of someone truly alive though, expressing every nuance and emotion as it was constantly animated. Under normal circumstances he might have even been beautiful except for the fact that he was a ghostly image superimposed over Neville and he was aiming his wand at her.

"Well that's very brave of you, fighting to the end and all but it really is quite futile. You won't win but seeing as you are Iris' sister the very least I can do is grant you the request and let you keep some of that Gryffindor pride. But first, _Privabellum." _The man's voice was polished and rich, the voice of a seducer and he knew it by the casual smirk he displayed that didn't hurt his features at all.

The aisle around them became hazy as a silver mist coalesced around them, boxing the aisle and Liatris could feel the oppressive silence that settled around them much as the privacy ward that her sister had used to tell them that she was a Parseltongue. But she knew enough Latin to recognize the nature of this particular ward even as the man in possession of Neville's body waved his wand at her and released her from the effects of his spells.

Her father had told her about dueling wards and how they were often used in the past to settle the differences between two combatants, the spell would only end when one of the duelists yielded or was incapacitated and unable to continue. They were illegal to use unless both parties agreed to it with at least three witnesses, one of whom was a Ministry official but somehow Liatris didn't think that whoever this guy was cared all that much about laws and regulations.

She took the time instead to clear her throat and flex her leg until she was assured that none of the spells that had been applied to her had any lasting effects before she stood up and shrugged off her school robes.

The man eyed her curiously but nodded in approval though he didn't imitate her actions save to return the traditional head bow between opponents before he surged into motion, thrusting Neville's wand in a nonverbal spell that sent a blurry sphere towards her.

Liatris didn't know the wand movement or what that spell might have been so she ducked and rolled to the side to avoid it as a voice that sounded curiously like Remus whispered in her mind, telling her things like where he was aiming and what his eyes were looking at, how far apart his legs were spread and what that meant for his balance. The voice told her that the sphere had passed through the space where her torso had been and hit the ward with a sound like soft thunder.

It told her that she needed to be offensive because without knowing what he was casting, she wouldn't last very long on the defensive and that seemed like good advice to listen to. So she took a step forward and leveled her wand at the man that was using Neville like a suit, _"Ferrum Verti"_

The apparition didn't even bother to move Neville's body as the spell passed low and to the right of him but he did sneer at her, "I don't know whether I should be disappointed or not; your sister put on an impressive display but maybe it's unfair of me to think of you in the same light, reflected in her glory."

He didn't think much of it when Liatris narrowed her eyes and stared at him intently, waiting to counter his move; it was silly of her to think that they should be taking turns casting spells at each other but she was young yet and she would learn eventually. He knew Riddle's plan had felt Iris' hatred; it had called to him, nourished him. He knew that she would eventually become his apprentice or rather the Teacher's apprentice and that would mean that young Miss Potter here was necessary for the future.

But he could not let her tell this particular story; not yet, the time wasn't right yet and no matter how much Neville beat against the prison of his own mind; she could not be spared from the actions that he was going to visit upon her but he could make it easier to bear. So he lifted Neville's arm and started the motion for a sleeping spell that would at least make the chimera's claws painless to her.

And then he paused.

He paused because the sleeve of his robe was a matte grey rather than the black that he had grown accustom to and then the weight of cloth that had turned to iron pulled him off balance and then it was just gravity that pulled him to the ground, trapping his arm under his weight and preventing him from moving at all.

"And that's why you take off the school robes, you tosser. _Petrificus Totalus_." The spell paralyzed the boy in place, leaving Neville frozen on the floor as the ward faded away like fog in the sunlight. The apparition that projected itself from Neville's face smiled up at Liatris from his position on the floor.

"You really should have let me put you to sleep Miss Potter; this is going to hurt a lot more than I wanted it to." The man's voice came out smooth and unaffected by the spell that left his host unmoving, it was only more unnerving to hear him laughing as the apparition withdrew into the boy's flesh.

The blast of hot air across the back of her neck and the bone rattling chuckle that rocked her were the last things she recognized before lines of pain flared across her back and blackness swallowed her vision.

* * *

><p>Iris was gearing up in the locker room with her team as excitement and anticipation pulsed through her fed by the roar of the crowd as the chanted "Gryffindor!" from the stands and urging the players to enter the pitch. The feeling was contagious, the team was filled with energy and their hard practices to deal with Slytherin's advantage of their brooms had them more than prepared for this match.<p>

Wood was in the midst of his pregame speech about how they were going to crush the Hufflepuffs with their new offensive patterns when Professor Riddle brushed through the flap with a grave set to his face that she had never seen before. Riddle never let anyone see more than his bored expression in public but even in private when the mask was half off and Iris could pick up on his other feelings he had never had so severe a look.

"Professor, you can't be in here; we're about to take the pitch." Wood was brushing past his team to meet the Defense instructor but Riddle gave him a look filled with such balefulness the Captain was forced backwards.

"The game's been cancelled Wood, I need Potter to come with me. The rest of you head straight to Gryffindor tower and stay in a group!" Riddle swept his gaze over the team of crimson clad athletes as Iris separated from her friends as the excitement that had been bounding through her slipped away as chains of dread settled around her and filled her with ice.

As they stepped out of the locker room beneath the stands, Iris was matching the man's brisk stride with difficulty but she managed to glimpse around the stands as the spectators were already making their way down from their seats as the news spread.

"Sir? What's going on?" Concern and fear were threading through her now that the excited energy that had been flowing through her was turned to filling her imagination with images and thoughts that she would rather not pay any attention to.

"There's been another attack today, a single student this time Iris but…" Riddle had a moment of weakness as he looked at her with a pained expression before he mastered himself and pushed through what he had to say, "It went after your sister."

Those words seemed to reverberate in her mind like the death knells of a bell and Iris was aware for a moment that the ice that had been creeping through her slowly as her mind had swirled across hundreds of different thoughts was now a steady chill that was moving through her with every heart beat but somehow she was not panicking.

A whisper in the back of her mind was telling her that she really should be feeling fear or anxiety for the safety of her sister but there was nothing there except for the ice and a tiny part of her mind that was aware of her Occlumency was aware that she had fed everything she was feeling at the moment into the furnace in the basement of her mind. The flame was burning so hotly now that there was no longer anything besides a white heat tinged with green at the edges.

Riddle was looking at her with concern when Iris realized that she had frozen in place on the edge of the pitch and again the tiny voice that circled her thoughts was telling her that she was touched that he would express those feelings out in the open where anyone could see but she couldn't quite feel those emotions at the moment, just the dim reflection of them as though seen through a layer of water.

She had regained enough presence of mind though to touch him softly on the elbow and give him a smile that didn't seem to reassure him at all as she took the lead and began moving towards the school, he followed a step or so behind her and she was faintly puzzled as to why he had looked at her with widened eyes at her smile but she brushed the thought aside. There were more important things to think about at the moment, like seeing how badly her sister was injured and how she was going to destroy whatever it was that had touched her.

There was a tranquil certainty about that last thought, she was most definitely going to destroy whatever it was that had hurt Liatris and when she was done with it; there wouldn't be any single piece large enough to identify it. And that thought also pleased her as the ice that she was feeling gave her a clear lucidity that she never quite felt before.

* * *

><p>Something was terribly wrong with Iris; Riddle was sure of that now more so than he was concerned over how this step of his plan had turned out. He knew rationally that this escalation was necessary, the wards would not have tripped otherwise unless someone had discovered that the attacks in the school were being orchestrated by a chimera that was bound to someone; but he had thought it would be Hermione or Daphne that would strike upon the theory.<p>

Those two girls were exceptionally bright and had proved to be quite thorough in the research that they used when they turned in their assignments, it had seemed logical that they would be the ones to hit upon the information and then Gellert could use the body he was possessing to put the child down so they couldn't inform Iris and ruin the plan.

Liatris had never been assessed as a variable, she was a First Year and an unknown when he had conceptualized the plan; even when she had become one of his students he had acknowledged that she was a gifted student but more along the lines of her sibling, she would excel in the practical portion of the class rather than the theoretical.

He had acknowledged that Iris' sibling bond was an important aspect of her, that any plans for taking her on as an apprentice and showing her the Dark Arts would have to be made with due consideration for the younger sister.

But this… this had the potential to be disastrous since Iris had just descended into the depths of cold fury; he knew that kind of rage intimately, he was practiced in descending to it and operating from within it to create his plans and strategies. He had won the bloodiest of his battles and his most difficult campaigns from that frozen plane and it had fueled his most powerful Dark Arts. Iris was not supposed to be there yet, she was still supposed to be nurturing her hatred and building it up.

He would have to rectify the problem and quickly by the looks of things as Iris' steps across the lawns caused the grass to wither beneath her feet as her magic built up around her like a cloud, tiny arcs of electricity jumped out towards the small insects that were buzzing through the spring air.

The students who had arrived at the school ahead of them were able to sense the weight of the girl's magic as she approached and they cleared the path ahead of her instinctively, as well they should when such power was presented to them. At the moment the young witch that was gliding through the halls like a predator on the prowl was the third most powerful magical signature in the school, only himself and the old goat upstairs could contain her right now and even then she would put up a struggle if it came to a duel.

He silently wished that it would not as they entered the Hospital Wing to see that both Lily and James Potter were hovering beside their youngest daughter's bed already while Madam Pomfrey bustled on the opposite side of the bed using her full repertoire of medical magic to stabilize and help Liatris.

As soon as Iris passed through the large wooden double doors her parents twisted around to see who was coming in with the force of a thunderstorm, James seemed somewhat stunned at the aura and instinctively placed the blame on the older man. Lily didn't bat an eyelash at the tempest that had stepped into the room and simply held out a hand to her daughter, wrapping her up in an embrace that seemed to soothe her more than the raven haired witch but Riddle could sense a quieting of the squall that he had created.

James eyed the Defense instructor for a moment, wariness and battle honed reflexes on the surface as he looked for further threats to his family. Riddle wanted to shake his head at the man's obviousness, he had never been much for subtlety but perhaps that was what was needed at the moment.

Riddle made a mental note of it as he drew closer to the bed to see just how much damage had been done to the girl and nearly flinched at the four ragged lacerations that marked her back, starting from just beneath the nape of her neck and dragging all the way down to the small of her back but there wasn't a single scratch beyond those wounds. He looked up carefully to see James staring at him as though he could see the flickers of guilt that were appearing just before he crushed them into nothingness.

He looked back at the man stoically, only allowing something that might have been interpreted as sympathy into his gaze while he wrestled with the sudden rush of self-deprecation for allowing the injury of a child affect him so, had he not tortured and killed Muggle women and children himself? He had terrorized a nation and killed countless people that had opposed the force that he had attempted to change the world with.

"With you all gathered together I can tell you what we know, Liatris was discovered this morning in the library by Madam Pince. Her injuries are consistent with the other three students who have been attacked this year but the assailant's patterns have changed; all of the previous attacks happened to older students and those who were offensive towards Iris.

"This change in behavior marks an escalation of whoever it is that has taken in interest in your daughter. We have made no gains in figuring out whoever is behind these attacks or their means of avoiding detection until today, Headmaster Dumbledore himself is checking the wards of the school to make sure it isn't an external threat but what we do know definitively is that someone engaged Liatris in a dueler's ward and that there was a struggle as evidence of a Concussion Curse was found which points to a student in the N.E.W.T. level Defense course.

"Now that we have the number of suspects narrowed down, it'll only be a small period of time until we uncover who is behind all of this and why. We're already in the process of asking the parents of those students who aren't of age to give us permission to use Veritaserum on their children and contacting the Ministry for permission to question the students."

Telling the lie to Lily and James was a good deal easier once Riddle buried his own foolish sentiments under the weight of the numerous stains that already marked his soul, it was a good deal harder to justify those lies when he looked at Iris, her emerald eyes shone with the rage that she felt towards her sister's attacker, and the pain that they had done it to get to her, and under the raw wounds was the trust that she had in him to find the person who had done this.

"I hope that when you find out just who is behind all of this you'll make it a point to inform the Auror office when you have the person in custody, it would mean a great deal to me to know that they were being brought up on criminal charges." James managed to say through gritted teeth as he ran a hand through his daughter's auburn hair, his voice thick with emotion while the matron dressed his child's wounds with bandages.

Before Riddle could make a reply to that statement, a tide of magic washed through the doors of the Hospital Wing; the room was filled with the scent of summer and comforting warmth similar to what sunshine on a winter day often felt like. It was cloying to be in the presence of that aura and the battering ram that slammed into his teeth as the compulsion twined through that aura attempted to snare his thoughts.

Iris didn't so much as bat an eyelash at the edge of compulsion that rode on the Headmaster's unchained magic as her own magic flared up in response to the oppressive wave, a rush of soul searing fury rose up out of the girl as she whipped around and fixed such a malevolent gaze on the old man that he flinched visibly. The thunderstorm that had been present since the moment Iris had stepped into the hospital wing had evolved into a whirling tempest.

Riddle doubted that she even noticed when the fingers of her left hand snapped sideways simultaneously with a crack audible from where he was standing as the Ring of Obedience reacted to threat she was posing to its bearer but he did and so did Dumbledore from the way his eyes flicked down to the appendage.

It was only because of the wards of the school, roused into wakefulness by the sudden onslaught of power that the infirmary was not being torn to pieces by the warring magic as Lord and Lady stared at each other, each waiting for the other to back down. The four occupants of the room who were not Lord level were firmly held in the compulsion's clutches and were utterly oblivious to what was transpiring as no doubt the rest of the school was considering how the school's defenses were contracting around them.

Riddle wondered where this vast sea of power dwelt within the young witch, she was still weaker than Dumbledore and himself at the moment but when she reached physical maturity she would easily be equal to them in power. It pleased him that he had not made Albus' mistake of trying to leash such power, no one of such prodigious strength would remain compliant forever; better to ally with it and help it define itself than pack it into a cage and expect it to emerge tamely when prodded with a stick.

Dumbledore did not know what entity he was dealing with at the moment but that it surely was not a twelve year old girl, what he had always thought of as a meekly deferent child matched him stare for stare. Perhaps it was because she was yet a child, not aware of the concept of her own mortality that gave her the ability to toe the line against a more powerful wizard. It would not be the first time a youngling had thought they were invulnerable.

Or perhaps she was of Bellatrix's ilk, wantonly abandon and liberated by that abandon incapable of feeling fear; it was a thought that had crossed his mind when seeing her play Quidditch.

Whatever it was that gave her that stubbornness, he needed to quell it and reshape it to his purposes; make it define itself in the way he wanted and he needn't fear it. The Ring was not the means to accomplish that goal, he was developing other means to that effect but it was a means to hold that power in check until it was directed correctly and capable of walking the roads of Light on its own.

Thumbing the ruby on its gold band, Albus looked into furious emerald eyes that glowed with magic and bade her to sleep. There was a resistance as the command passed along invisible tethers and settled in the recesses of her mind but the blood magic forced its way through those barriers and the girl collapsed with the suddenness of a blown out candle flame.

His magic eased her collapse and allowed him to levitate her into the bed beside her sister's and set her fingers with ease; Healing magic was of the Light after all and thus within his domain. So focused on the situation that he had been in that Dumbledore had forgotten about his Deputy until a blast of cold flashed through the room for a moment and he turned his head to look upon Tom quizzically.

Fury tried to work itself free from the Defense instructor's chest at seeing the violation that had been committed right in front of him and a momentary slip of his mask allowed some of his magic to billow out before he mastered himself. It attracted the Headmaster's attention but by the time the fool turned to face him he simply shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and made a gesture that encompassed the room.

The silence stretched for a few moments longer as Dumbledore sensed the residual atmosphere of what had transpired before he nodded, if Riddle had been using his own magic as a buffer against the magical storm that had been building over the last few seconds then with the sudden dispersal of the tension it was logical that the buffer would expand into the depressurized environment.

But the sudden disturbance of Riddle's magic had unintended effects, so angry was he with Dumbledore that the flare of magic that escaped was counteracting the compulsion that had settled on the adults, the Auror was already struggling to regain his senses and Lily was only a moment behind him as old reflexes came to the fore after being long dormant.

Dumbledore took advantage of their half awakened state to feed them the suggestion that Iris had collapsed from the shock of her sister's injury and Dumbledore's magical weight, unchecked because of his anger at having another injured student.

James adapted to the suggestion readily enough, willing to believe his old mentor and leader unquestionably but Lily fully around with a fire in her eyes as she looked at both of her bedridden daughters.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" The words were out of Albus' mouth before he could rightly control the reflex and from the way the woman's eye narrowed at him he knew that he had misspoken as the lingering calmness that his magic's presence might have had were blasted away as her ire grew.

"Both of my daughters are lying in hospital beds, one after being attacked by one of your students Albus! Of course there is something wrong! I felt safe entrusting my children to your protection while they attended school and even allowed myself to believe that you had discreetly handled matters when the attacks ceased after the holidays!" Lily spat as she took a step forward and seemed to be looking down at her mentor for all the fact that he was taller than she.

"Perhaps you've lost a step in your age Headmaster and I cannot fault you for that, men grow old after all; but I can hold you accountable when children are harmed when it is your responsibility to guarantee their safety." Lily's voice lowered as she spoke and drove her finger into the chest of the man who had once convinced her to go to war for him, and for all that her voice lacked volume the threat behind them was all the more real for it.

Riddle was quite pleased at the stricken expression on the old goat's face and he allowed himself a private smirk for a moment before he tucked it away when Lily rounded on him, her eyes fiercer than he had seen them in what seemed like a lifetime.

"Deputy Headmaster, for your sake I hope that you can protect my daughters better or I'm afraid you'll both find yourselves in need of new tenure." There was a quiet thunder in that voice, memories of a powerful and dangerous adversary came to mind then.

It had been long time since Riddle had seen the Valkyrie of Exeter take flight but it was all the more thrilling to see that terrifying beauty return from the past, the witch who had defied him and devastated his followers all those years ago; she who had been savage on the battlefield.

He had extended his hand out to her once, offered to let her join his cause; it would have been an easy thing to forget her Muggle origins in the face of the magic she wielded. A part of him, the shadowed corner of his soul where his darkest impulses lay, quietly rejoiced at the return of his old enemy and was elated to finally have stolen her from Dumbledore's arms.

Riddle nodded his head nearly imperceptibly but she saw it and nodded in return, undoubtedly recalling the ally she had thought him to be during the war. He would not dissuade her of that notion, not when things were going so unexpectedly in his favor.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England<strong>

**April 10, 1993**

Lucius was a happy man, though one would not know to look at him though perhaps happiness was the wrong word; more apt it was to say that one of the wealthiest and most influential wizards in England was a man of a great serenity this afternoon.

He had just finished having a luncheon with the Minister and expressing his disappointment with a few of the laws that were being brought up to the Wizengamot regarding the legality of ownership over certain Dark artifacts that had were more like to be heirlooms for certain families.

Such precious works did not belong in a vault in the Department of Mysteries where they would be coldly studied and cataloged before being locked away and never seeing the light of day, not when they were treasured possessions that marked ancient lineages and stood as reminders to the great deeds that had set the foundations for their great society.

Cornelius had been quite moved by the passion that the Malfoy had presented over the issue and of course the settling of certain favors owed to so fine a benefactor had helped the Minister's conversion to a more agreeable stance. But while Fudge's veto would aid in the cause, there remained those individuals who would bring about such measures again in a few months' time and that would not do.

So while Lucius marked his ledgers and moved some of his family's substantial wealth to certain vaults in Gringotts that would remain in escrow and building some very attractive interest he considered just which of the Elder's owed him favors and which players were like to make countermoves in his favor should certain information fall into their hands. Few things were so rewarding as planning future successes and watching the masses dance to music of your making.

The scratching of quill on parchment was a relaxing sound but it was the pureblood's pride to never show surprise and he allowed himself a moment of private gloating as there was not a single misplaced drop of ink on the page from the sudden tugging on his mind that occurred when the Manor's wards pulled at his attention and informed him long before one of his useless house elves could arrive that the fireplace in the drawing room off of the great hall was being used for a firecall.

By the time the knock on his study door came and Dobby told him who was calling, he could already feel Narcissa slipping into the room and greeting the Mudblood who was speaking through the flames. It would not be a difficult thing to have the walls of the Manor relate every word being spoken directly to his ear but he truly had no desire to do so.

Why his darling wife had chosen to befriend the woman was beyond him, he could admit that Lily Potter was one of the best enchantresses in the British Isles because it would be foolish not to think so when the evidence was irrefutable and Malfoy's were not foolish, but despite the woman's gift and her ability she was still an outsider who had infiltrated an echelon of society she should not have been allowed to rise to.

Her progeny were slightly more appealing to him, halfbloods though they were they came from a long and powerful line; it had waned in strength and importance in the last couple of generations but there was still a power there and having it tied to his son was quite palatable. It was the only reason he supported his wife's decision to maintain her association with the _Lady _Potter, he grimaced at giving the woman her proper title even if it was in his internal monologue, on more than a professional level.

The pull on his senses returned again and this time he could smell something that tickled his nose like perfume and the heat of something frigidly cold; it was a sensation he was intimately familiar with, he had married the origin of it. He was suddenly very curious to discover what his spouse and her friend were talking about that had inspired such rage from Narcissa and with it her magic.

He didn't have long to wait as the firecall ended and he could feel the source of the heat drawing closer until he no longer needed the wards to tell him his wife was angry and he could feel the current of her magic himself. He rose from his seat and moved around his desk to slide back the oak panel door to his private study and step into the public study that he used to converse with his business partners.

It was a serious matter indeed if he wife was not content to wait until dinner to share the news and from the way she slipped into the room, poised and beautiful with her bottle green robes swirling about her ankles in an invisible breeze and her flaxen blonde hair hanging loose about her shoulders, burning with a pale fire as sunset light streamed through the windows.

"Whatever is the matter Narcissa?" Lucius asked with an unaffected air though he quietly drank in the sight his wife made, there were very few things that he loved in the world; power and money pleased him certainly but his wife and his son were the foremost things in his life. He had courted Narcissa at first sight of her; not because she was a Black or a pureblood (though it had made his father a great deal more receptive) but because she unequivocally beautiful and he coveted beauty.

She knew that and she took full advantage of that knowledge when she saw the way his gaze washed over her, his voice remained cool and stoic but she knew beneath that statuesque façade that he held there was a smoldering passion that she evoked in him. This was the game the purebloods played and Lucius played it well, better than most of the partners that she had played with.

"Liatris Potter was just attacked at Hogwarts." Narcissa replied smoothly as she strode forward, graceful and light she moved like a dance with every motion drawing attention to a flash of pale skin at wrist or leg or the bare expanse of flesh of her throat. She stopped just out of arm's reach and cocked her head slightly to the side so that a river of hair fell over her shoulder, framing the gentle curve of her cheek and the brightness of her eyes.

"Lily believes that Albus is being too soft in handling the situation and that a stronger hand needs to take charge of the situation." Narcissa said her voice dropping huskily and her gaze pausing on Lucius' fingers before meeting his eyes through her eyelashes, "The Potter's were once some of Albus' most loyal supporters; if he has lost his edge and can no longer protect the children of the Light families that once fought for him then our Draco might very well be in danger as well."

Lucius could feel a quickening in his pulse though he carefully kept down the flush of desire that wanted to rise into his face but he could not hide the predatory gleam of his eyes as he looked down at Narcissa. "And I would be loathe to abide any harm that might befall my child or any for that matter, it would be irresponsible as a member of the school's board of governors to allow a Headmaster to remain who could not care for the safety of his students."

He took the step forward the brought Narcissa into his arms and kissed her tenderly at her first and then with a crushing force as he let his passion shine through, pulling back he rested his forehead against hers. "Consider it done my sweet; the old goat will be out of his office by tonight."

"Thank you Lucius, and if he is removed from office a bit earlier than that perhaps there is some way I can repay the favor." The woman gave him a hungry look that elicited a pleasurable shiver along his spine that he nearly failed to hide… nearly. He watched with a hot desire as she sauntered out of the room slowly, teasing him with his reward if he made what she wanted happen.

He would take a great deal of pleasure in cowing the other governors and seeing Dumbledore turned out of his castle, he would take greater pleasure when his Lord and the Teacher rewarded him for his service, none of it would compare to what Narcissa would treat him to.

Lucius did not smile often, but he did now.

He was a happy man after all.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland<strong>

**April 16, 1993**

The news unfolding through the school had people staring at Iris again but this time those eyes held concern and pity rather than fear and suspicion; anyone with half a brain could see just how close she was to her sister and now that she was in the Hospital Wing it was inconceivable that she had been involved in the attacks now.

Of course some of the Slytherins thought it was a rather ingenious way to throw off suspicion; instant pity from others and absolution from the crime wrapped together but that only lasted so long as they didn't see the changes that Liatris' attack had wrought in the Gryffindor.

She had become a volatile time bomb, alright one minute and throwing hexes the next; her behavior had already lost Gryffindor fifty points and left her Head of House trying to undo a switching charm that had placed Ginny's lips on a pitcher of milk during breakfast after she had said how much more productive classes were without Liatris ruining things for everybody else.

The pitying looks only lasted a few days or so before more interesting news cropped up or rather when Professor Riddle strode into the Great Hall looking rather more chipper than usual and sat himself down on the gilded throne that was reserved for the Headmaster. Silence descended almost immediately when he did that and some of the other Professors looked stricken at how brazenly he took Dumbledore's place.

Before any of them could find the words to chide him, he spoke; calmly and without seemingly raising his voice everyone heard him clearly.

"Students, staff, and faculty; it I with great sadness that I must inform you that Professor Dumbledore has been temporarily relieved of his office as investigations are conducted on the recent attacks on students. As I'm no doubt you are aware, Madam Pomfrey is making progress on returning our injured students to health and we look forward to having them with us again.

"In the meantime, I have decided that for the safety of our students; curfew will be moved from nine o'clock to seven in the evening. No students are to be found walking in the halls without the supervision of a teacher, which is to say that all students are to be escorted to and from class by a teacher. All quidditch games are cancelled and all practice is to cease and all prefects lower than fifth year are to be reassigned their duties of patrol to older students whom I will personally inform.

"Lastly, Gilderoy Lockhart has been removed from the school grounds for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss save that you should keep an eye on the Daily Prophet in the future. Now off to class, Second Year defense students follow me please."

The announcement ended just as suddenly as it had begun and the students were left entirely perplexed and incapable of doing anything besides wrapping their heads around the new information. The biggest thing that students seemed to latch onto was the sudden departure of Lockhart and why, the mystery that Riddle had left instantly attracting the most attention.

It confirmed for Iris that most of the students really were just sheep, bleating the same tune to one another and it deepened her disgust of them, there was an echo in the recesses of her mind that told her she was being too harsh and that she was still feeling raw from the attack on Liatris.

She knew it was right, more accurately she knew Harry was right; the parts of his mind that had not blended with her consciousness still had a weight and feel to them that she knew and it seemed that he had taken up the mantle of her conscience; a voice of reason that told her when she was being unfair and kept her centered even when her emotions swirled about like a maelstrom.

Sometimes she wished it would shut up and just let her be but it never did, it was an unrelenting guide that refused to let her blind herself and become one of the sheep; even now it was telling her that Riddle had looked quite pleased sitting in the Headmaster's seat and that she hadn't noticed it because she knew him well from all of his dueling lessons but because it had been plainly presented for anyone to see.

It would be easy for everyone to assume that it was because Lockhart was no longer in Hogwarts and able to ruin his class because he had said how sad he was that the Headmaster was away but there was more to it than that. He had told her about the Ring of Obedience and what it would take to break it; the disobedience of a command, separation through distance, and powerful wards to protect the breaker.

The stage had been set; all that she needed now was the time to build up enough magic to break the thread that held her captive. But if it was true that he had orchestrated all of the events to set this up then he was directly at fault for Liatris' attack and there was no way he could look at her with that mixture of excitement and concern in his charcoal eyes if he was directly responsible.

Which meant there was another party still involved in the attacks and someone that she needed to pay back for attacking her sister in spades. That thought was undisputed by Harry's logic; he had been a loyal friend with uncommon valor that had urged him to save everyone under the lake in his Fourth Year. Now someone had hurt his sister, and for that they needed to be punished.

She had spent a lot of time in the past few days researching how to do just that and she thought she knew just the spell that would do the trick but it wasn't the kind of thing that one went about practicing in front of polite company, but something told her that he would help her with this one.

She patiently waited out the class as they discussed the best way to handle ghouls that had rather nasty dispositions and found you trespassing in their homes or the homes of the families that they had bonded with. She had demonstrated ease with the Repulsion Charm that would bounce a physical attack away from the caster and took a quite satisfaction in sending Dean Thomas across the classroom and into the pile of pillows that Riddle had set up for his students to practice with.

As the students were packing there things to file out of class she passed him a note that caused his eyebrows to lift and he looked at her with a mixture of a surprise and shock but he nodded.

For the rest of the day she patiently waited until after dinner for Riddle to collect her for 'detention' and escort her to his private apartments and the warded workroom that had become her place of practice. Once the door was closed behind them and he settled the wards into place he turned around to find Iris standing in the middle of the room with her wand in hand and her robes and jumper piled against the wall beside her bag.

"I have to admit Iris that I'm rather surprised that you would show any interest in this particular field of magic and why you would ask me of all people. I would think that you would turn to Professor Snape for assistance with learning Dark Arts and not a Defense teacher." Riddle said as he crossed his arms and looked at her with a carefully guarded expression that would not allow any expression or emotion loose.

It was too bad that she knew him well enough now that she could read his stance and that the intuition that Harry provided her with told her that he had already conceded to giving her the knowledge she sought and that he was just fishing for a reason from her on what had sparked her interest… as if he didn't know.

"To know what to defend against you have to know what is coming; I know enough about Grindelwald's War and the Wizarding War that the Aurors were given permission to use Dark Arts spells and that the lines got blurred. Someone attacked my sister, that's a declaration of war against me as far as I'm concerned and if it's going to be war than I plan on being well armed."

Iris said the words without faltering, Harry had used the Dark Arts during war time and would have done so if it was the means with which he needed to protect his friends. Iris was just taking that logic a bit farther, now that she had a family to protect she would use whatever means she had available to see them safe.

Riddle nodded satisfied and he took a moment to look her in the eyes, it only took her a moment to feel the weight of a foreign entity in her mind and she reflexively rolled a heavy fog of Occlumency over her thoughts containing shards of glass, floating razors, and particles of diamond dust that would slice his mind to pieces for intruding into hers uninvited.

He was left standing in a tiny clearing in the forest of her mind with fog pressing in around him and plenty more traps and weapons hiding in the shadows of the trees. His shock was plain to read here in her mind, there was no lying in mind to mind communication like this; he had never seen such an organized and defended mind in anyone so young before.

It raised some questions in him but he stored them for later, at the moment he sent a projection into the fog for permission to see what her emotions looked like and in response a small pool of quicksilver, like the liquid in a pensieve, formed in front of him and showed him a picture of what hell might have looked like.

There was an island of black sand with a proud and noble tree standing in the middle of it, if trees were made from metal, its branches were full of leaves and flowers that were positive emotions and all around that island was a sea of molten steel that held nothing but anger and rage and hatred. And beneath that lake of negativity was something that he could only describe as a block of icy cold obsidian.

Riddle retreated from her mind after observing that picture for a terrifying moment and when he was safely back in his own head and staring into the vibrant green eyes of Iris he allowed himself to feel the tingle of fear that he had been repressing so that she wouldn't detect it.

He had wanted the girl to learn how to hate, his Apprentice would have need of that hatred if she was to learn the Dark Arts and become a feared Dark Lady. And he knew from the day that Liatris had been attacked that Iris was capable of that hatred, felt it starkly enough the Dumbledore had been taken aback by its intensity. He also knew she felt cold fury and that was unexpected, as it wasn't just a personal emotion but the rage of a person's magic as well.

An average wizard could never experience that level of emotion but even in powerful wizards like Snape or Lily it could takes decades to acquire that passion as the person matured into their magic. Lords came into it earlier than others as such powerful magic was a central part of their identity but even then Riddle had descended to that fury at fifteen for the first time.

For Iris to access it at twelve meant that she was intensely aware of her own magic, it made Riddle think that the Ring of Obedience had something to do with it; to have something so utterly foreign imbedded within her might have created a conscious distinction of what was her and what wasn't her magic.

Whatever the origins of the situation, Riddle was in a supremely delicate position; the spell Iris wanted him to teach her was Dark Magic; not an Unforgivable but one that was far more opaque then he would ever consider teaching a child. But Iris wasn't an ordinary prepubescent student; she was a highly intelligent and mature witch who was coming into Lord level power.

As an apprentice it would be within his rights to teach her that kind of magic but she could not declare a formal apprenticeship until she was at least fourteen, any younger and it wouldn't hold up in court without parental consent. He doubted that James or Lily would consent to their daughter entering into such a commitment so young.

On the other hand what did he care about playing by the rules of the Ministry when in a few short years he would most likely topple it anyway?

With that in mind he didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt as he made the decision to instruct Iris in the workings of the curse she had selected; there had always been the risk that Grindelwald would lose this Horcrux, it was more of a certainty now than a risk but such was the price for so valuable an ally that the up and coming Lady would be. He was certain that the Dark Teacher would do the same in his place… especially if it wasn't a piece of his soul on the line.

"Fulgor Aquilum is an intensely powerful spell that requires the caster be focused on their target and utterly determined in their intent; should your attention waver or your will falter the spell will snap back on the wizard. Its very nature is to destroy and thus when control is lost it is the caster who suffers; how much they suffer is determined on the strength of the intent. Theoretically, there is nothing that cannot be destroyed with the spell but the greater the desire to destroy the more the spell will take from you should you hesitate."

Iris listened to her teacher's words even as he simply rephrased what she had already read within the depths of the Restricted Section, in the days since Liatris' attack and the Headmaster's departure her friends had all but attached themselves to her by the hip and no matter how well she dissembled, it was apparent to her that they were treating her like she was made of fine glass.

But if she waited long enough into the night that Hermione was asleep, a simple Sleeping Charm made sure the older girl didn't stir as she slipped out of their shared dormitory and a Disillusionment Charm ensured that she wasn't seen by the patrolling faculty and staff. It also helped that she had dug through her textbook and begun brewing her own Energizing Potions to get her through the day with nothing more than some dark circles around her eyes.

With everyone seeing her as a victim it was easy for them to carry the thought that she was simply burdened and sleeping poorly rather than just grabbing a few hours of sleep and then using her evening hours more constructively.

And plotting revenge was indeed highly constructive, there were quite a few spells in existence as it turns out and it took a certain kind of motivation to really bury yourself into that kind of research and study. Visualizing the slow torture and eventual death of your adversary was a very powerful drive though, for Iris at least; but then again she happened to know that already.

Harry had proven that; Voldemort had paid for the deaths of his parents, for the death of Sirius, and Remus, and Tonks, and Fred, and Dumbledore. He paid for the deaths of the Minister and the Bones family and the muggles and muggleborns who were persecuted during his reign of terror. It had taken no more than a year to strip that Dark Lord of his immortality.

This time Iris had a mentor who could teach her what she needed to know; she didn't have to guess or fumble around in the dark pursuing an objective with little more than her resourcefulness and that of her friends. Now she was going into battle armed, her adversary was about to meet the full force of her directed will.

"I know what the spell does Professor, I just need a safe place to practice and some help so I'm not walking into this blind. I'm ready to begin."

* * *

><p><strong>Daily Prophet<strong>

**April 21, 1993**

_**Truth Revealed; The Sordid History of Gilderoy Lockhart**_

_By: Sarah Black_

_It has recently been revealed that esteemed author and celebrity Gilderoy Lockhart is not quite the sparkling hero he has convinced his fans he is, in fact after an extensive investigation by the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement they have determined that the honorary member of the Dark Arts Defense League and Order of Merlin, Third Class recipient is nothing more than a criminal._

_Lead investigator on the case, James Potter, famed war hero and Auror; has painstakingly traced the movements of Lockhart since his rise to fame and the adventures detailed in his books. When questioned on the subject, Mr. Potter explained that there are glaring discrepancies between the timeline that Lockhart publishes in his "Year with Yetis" and what the Auror office has managed to compile. _

"_Based on what my colleagues and I have been able to ascertain over the course of our investigation is that Mr. Lockhart has falsified his writings and his deeds; based on our observations and reports coming from Hogwarts, Mr. Lockhart is consummately unprofessional and completely inept in the field of Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Hogwarts Board of Governors has already taken the action of removing him from the school because of the liability that he poses not only to himself but to the students and faculty of the school."_

_Other sources who have decided to remain anonymous have verified this information and have provided further information regarding the celebrity; their independent investigations have resulted in the discoveries of several patients within St. Mungo's Hospital who have suffered from memory charms, hospital Legilimens are in the process of unraveling these charms but of the victims who have recovered their memories have filed charges against Lockhart._

_The Wizengamot has made an official statement regarding the situation with news of an official review of the case and the confinement of Gilderoy Lockhart to his home until the conclusion of the investigation to ensure his safety against those who might seek reprisal. _

_More information on pg. 3…_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>It's been a while since I updated so I just wanted to let you guys know that college classes have started up again for me and my schedule has changed a bit since last semester so I have had less time to write; I'll try to resume my posting schedule but it'll be touch and go as I take my upper division courses.

**Next Chapter: **_The Verdict_


	18. Chapter XVI

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **Guess who's back with a whole new chapter? That's right and what a chapter it is; over 40 pages for your reading enjoyment. Comment, critique or have a question; feel free to send me a pm or drop it in the reviews.

**Behind the Veil**

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XVI**

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><p><strong>Lockhart Penthouse, London, England<strong>

"Damn the Potters! Damn them all! Who the fuck does he think he is!?" Lockhart screamed at the walls of his penthouse apartment in between the sounds of glass shattering as he threw curse and hex at the portraits and pictures that he had accrued of himself over the years. Now it seemed that each of the smiling faces were taunting him, each a reflection of his misdeeds and the threat to his fame and fortune.

He was at the precipice of a long fall, one that would cost him everything save for the notoriety of criminality that hung in the wake of his forth coming disgrace at the hands of a spiteful father; a father who was completely oblivious to his daughter's strength and ability. For months he had showered her with his attention and interest, she should have been honored to stand in his presence let alone to be the center of his attention.

She hadn't, Iris Potter was far more infatuated with the good-for-nothing Tom Riddle, a man whose only claim to fame was being powerful! At least Lockhart could write a good tale, sure none of them might have been completely true but none of those books would have sold nearly as well if he hadn't been the face of them. Who would have cared if some no name hack from Ireland had put down a banshee that was terrorizing a small wizarding village in the middle of nowhere?

No one! But if Gilderoy Lockhart had done it then it was a feat of exceptional heroism, one that had allowed that meek wizarding village to swim in more press and attention then it had seen in the last century since it had produced anyone of any actual import to the magical community.

They owed him, and so did all the other villages and towns that had grown fat and rich off of his writings; and so what if a few no name wizards and witches wound up in St. Mungo's or became the local loons that wound up in Azkaban for breaking the Secrecy Act. Did the gains of the many not outweigh the losses of the few? He had done so many a service for taking those deeds onto himself then allowing their doers to take the credit.

And now some stupid man who was trying to get payback; unable to accept that for the discovery of new spells some sacrifices needed to be made. Yes Iris had suffered some discomfort, but was that not a small price to pay for the discovery of new magic; she should feel blessed that he had eve turned the benediction of his wand upon her and allowed her to be part of that achievement.

After all he had already been contacted by the Ministry and St. Mungo's in regards to the spell; they could recognize talent and the usefulness of such a new spell. But the halfwit Auror that was the girl's father was going to ruin all of that! It was unfathomable! Completely intolerable! He would not allow himself to be brought low by such a weak and unworthy adversary.

"James Potter wants to take me down does he? Well, he went and picked a fight with the wrong man!" Lockhart declared as he looked around the wreck his apartment had become; glass shards were strewn about the teak wood floors as paint blistered and peeled from the walls, even his furniture was scattered about the room reduced to splinters and tufts of cloth as though it were some Muggle movie.

The ruined apartment showed the true nature of Gilderoy Lockhart, the ruthless wizard that had cursed a dozen of his brethren to anonymity and madness for his own gain, the boyish good looks and charming smile were lost beneath a mask of fury and outrage at his circumstances, his eyes glinted with madness and the predatory smile that would have looked appropriate on a sphinx stalking its prey.

The glass crunched under his heel as he entered his destroyed study, the remains of his desk still had some parchment around it that was still usable if a bit singed around the corners. He perched himself on the windowsill as he scribbled orders to his attorney, a disgusting slob of a man who had worked for the DMLE for years before he had been fired for misconduct.

"Your daughter could have been famous, could have had anything she wanted in the world if things had gone my way. Oh dear, dear James; you've gone and made a monster out of me, so I'll show you what monsters are capable of and why people still fear what goes knocking in the night."

With a wicked smile and a mad gleam in his eye, Gilderoy Lockhart scribbled furiously and when the Aurors managed to make their way through the warded door of his apartment they found him standing idly among the wreckage with that same hungry rictus of a grin and handed them a thick, sealed envelope with his attorney's name on it.

"Make sure this is delivered to Demetrius Bulstrode and tell him I want to see him immediately. And don't even think of looking into that envelope, it carries with it attorney-client privilege; you wouldn't want to make dear James angry by having this whole case against me fall apart because of your incompetence." The words were issued with a stark coldness that was uncharacteristic of the man.

Nymphadora Tonks had not been with the Aurors very long nor had she been a part of a case with so much publicity attached to it; but the reptilian smile that Lockhart leveled at her made her skin crawl and she wondered just what was in the envelope that could make a man smile like that.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland<strong>

Summer was approaching, that was clear by Hermione's study sessions and the way she was marking her notes and textbooks as though the semester finals were going to attempt to appear early and catch her unawares.

Even out beneath the ancient willow tree on the lake's shore, sheltered in the shade of its branches and leaves and bathed in the cooling breeze that came off the surface of the lake; the brunette could not be subdued by the beautiful weather that had descended upon the castle.

Then again, she wasn't the only one who seemed more wound up then normal; the whole gang was edgier than normal. There was an air of tension to the school since the Headmaster had been suspended and now with the news that Lockhart might be a fraud and further a criminal that had been cursing innocent people for his own gain; the students were upset and unsettled that so many things were changing.

It was impossible for anyone to escape the feeling that they were standing on the edge with one foot hanging over empty air, so it was to be expected that the students would cling to what was normal and typical, like studying for exams and making plans for the summer recess.

But that was just… boring.

Draco heaved a frustrated breath that lifted the bangs on his forehead more than the gentle breeze had managed to do since he had taken his seat amidst the interwoven branches of the willow tree.

Perhaps it was a bit insensitive of him to feel that way, after all Liatris was still up in the hospital wing with her back laid open for anyone that wanted a good look at what your spine looked like but he that had created so many interesting situations. Iris practically lived in 'detention' now and she positively reeked of Dark Magic; not that anyone who wasn't already fairly familiar with it and in close proximity to her would notice.

It was interesting to see a Gryffindor learning Dark Magic from the school's defense teacher, on the other hand; Iris had never been a typical Gryffindor, he was fairly sure she should have gone into Slytherin but it was her family heritage that had really influenced that decision more than her actual traits.

It was more interesting to see how uncomfortable the other Gryffindors were starting to get around her, Light families had an aversion to Dark Magic from generations of refusing to use anything but the darkest of Grey magic and so it was something akin to watching the fox in the chicken coop. The bench space around her was almost never filled by anyone who wasn't already a friend or a Muggleborn and no one seemed to notice.

It was all very amusing to Draco, especially since it seemed that his own peers in Slytherin hadn't noticed the pattern but none of them had gotten particularly close to the witch. Well with the exception of Blaise and Daphne of course but then Daphne wasn't from a particularly dark family; Greengrass had been a family of neutral healers for generations with the odd trade springing out of the family tree.

Blaise though, he had probably noticed the very first day that Iris had used a Dark spell and it wouldn't have been all that surprising if the Italian knew which spell she had used and how well she had cast it too. It could be creepy how sharp those golden eyes of his were, it was like trying to stare into the eyes of a bird of prey and knowing that while you were looking at it, it was _seeing _you.

Isabel Zabini was worse since she always had that little half-smile like she knew something that you didn't and no matter how hard you looked, it would be impossible to figure it out. Not to mention the woman was suspected in the deaths of her husbands, all five of them as of yet; and if the rumors were true then there was a prospective sixth in the Belarusian Ambassador to the Ministry of Magic.

There were so many interesting things hanging out in the air at the moment that all it would take was a little push to see just how different the world could become overnight. It wasn't hard to imagine that the push was coming either, not when Iris carried the smell of a brewing rainstorm wherever she went. Not when Riddle held the Headmaster's seat, with Lockhart under investigation for criminal misconduct and Dumbledore suspended.

Draco couldn't help but feel energized by that prospect, how did one simply study or lavish in the peacefulness of the grounds when things were coming to a head just behind the veil? All he wanted was for something to happen already, was that really so bad?

* * *

><p><strong>Bulstrode &amp; Tash Law, Knockturn Alley, London, England<strong>

Demetrius Bulstrode had always been a mountain of a man, it had been a trait that had served him well in his youth and his time as an Auror; as a student no one wanted to fight a fourteen year old lad who was already over six feet tall and strapping with muscle, as a man there were fewer who wanted to tackle a man of such stature and strength when they were faster than nature should have allowed and as skilled with a wand as any duelist.

Now in his fifties, he was still a monolith of muscle though he had gotten somewhat soft around the middle; he kept his head shaved and his circle beard trimmed neatly. He looked more like a retired bodybuilder than the lawyer he was but that wasn't exactly a bad thing in his opinion.

Fortunately, he was blessed with both hands; for as physically able as the man was he also had a keen intellect; while not particularly stellar in regards to his schooling he had proven more than capable of maneuvering in the political atmosphere of the Ministry. Sure, there had been some strong arming, intimidation, blackmail, even acts of violence but he had thrived; he had learned where the bodies were buried, could apply leverage and pressure to get results.

He was not a by-the-book Auror by any stretch of the imagination, in point of fact he was dirty as hell; for the right price he could be convinced to turn a blind eye or a let man go free but he had his own code too. He never harmed a woman or child, he never ignored a person in need, he would never turn a blind eye to a murder, rape, or child abuse because some crimes were inexcusable no matter the price.

He had even taken a Muggle-born witch to be his wife, blood prejudice had never been a part of his family line; the Bulstrode line had always been protectors, their surname was "Fortress on the Marsh." They weathered and endured, held true to their convictions. He might have lined his pocket to support his family by letting junkies get their fix of illegal potions but he also had the highest conviction rate in DMLE for violent offenders.

His life had changed when the Dark Lord had risen and with him the return of the Teacher spreading his message to Great Britain; the destruction they had wrought had been both impressive and terrifying. As a Bulstrode he knew Dark magic, had felt the rush of using such spells as a young man in the dungeons of the Stone, the old citadel and ancestral home of the main Bultrode line, he knew its allure and what it could accomplish.

When the Dark Lord paid him a personal visit he had offered Demetrius a choice, he could join his ranks; an Auror on the take could go a long way in making operations safer for the Death Eaters and so long as he served faithfully, dutifully, then his dear Juliet would be spared. The alternative was not lost on the then Auror, he had seen what they had done to other families that had refused the same offer; women and children had been left broken husks of their former selves with their minds gone and their will to live snuffed out.

The choice then had been easy, it had been living with it that had been hard; those had been dark days and the dull, faded Dark Mark on his forearm was a daily reminder of what had transpired. When the Teacher had been obliterated by the Longbottom child and Voldemort had retreated to the shadows, the Ministry had made many inquisitions; it hadn't taken long for his identity as a Death Eater had come out but when it did he still had more than enough shovels with which to dig up the bodies at the ministry that they allowed him to quietly resign with only a mark of misconduct on his record.

Now he was lawyer to the stars, it had taken a decade but he had earned a reputation for winning his cases, when he took the Daily Prophet and their team of lawyers for slander; every one of their lawyers resigned during the trial proceedings until the newspaper had no choice but to pay out for damages. Unfortunately that kind of success also meant dealing with some unsavory characters, he had never gone to trial for a cause he didn't believe in personally but then he had never anticipated what Gilderoy Lockhart was capable of.

So when an owl swooped into his well-furnished office and alighted on the stand that resided within arm's reach of his desk, he untied the thick envelope from the animal's outstretched leg and offered it a treat for its service. He stroked the bird's breast feathers as it swallowed its treat and then watched as it swooped from its perch and winged its way into the London sky.

He waited until he could no longer make out the dot of its receding form before he turned his attention to the sealed envelope reluctantly, the heavy parchment was made from a remarkably fine stationary that no longer seemed to match the elegant calligraphy that was Lockhart's writing, the expensive cerulean ink that was the man's preferred color standing out clearly as the large man broke the wax seal with his thumb and began to read the wishes of his client.

The orders were made out on singed parchment, the scribbled commands barely legible with the haste in which they were written but no less thought out and binding for all the penmanship might suggest. Money was to be transferred and people were to be contacted all for the sake of putting several highly placed people into position but the last order was both surprising and deeply unnerving.

How was he supposed to get Lockhart that particular meeting?

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland<strong>

The corridors beneath the castle were always dark and damp, torchlight danced on the walls and the flickering leaps and pirouettes stretched further into the stone passageways that were slick with condensation.

Neville could see his body's breath emerge like steam before him down here in these tomb-like depths, its footsteps utterly undaunted by the constricting pressure that was the weight of the castle above them. He was helpless to do anything but watch through eyes that used to be under his control as his captor wove through the dungeons of the castle with a grace and strength that Neville knew he himself did not possess.

"Don't worry dear boy, in a few hours I will have no need of this vessel and you shall be set free but before I can release you I need to complete just a few more errands." The voice was smooth, deep and warm; Neville almost felt lulled and secure by that but his father had a voice like that too.

Men like that had all the appeal of honey over rotten fruit, it might seem sweet at first but after that first bite there was nothing but sick and worms to gag you.

"Now, now, Neville; that's not very nice of you to say. I'm a man of my word, I've done everything I promised you I would since the moment you put on my bracelet. I've earned the respect of your upperclassmen, proven you to be just as smart as that Mudblood Granger, showed them that you are a leader worthy of following, a wizard dangerous enough to take on the likes of that Blaise boy and beat him without effort.

Respect, power, followers, even a concubine had you and the young Miss Weasley been a bit older but nevertheless she was yours for the taking. I've given you everything you desired; now I'm just collecting on your end of this little deal."

Had Neville the ability he would have shook his head in outrage, the older boys didn't respect him any further than he had promised to lift them up through the Ministry. He wasn't any more capable now than he had been at the onset of the school year, once he had lost the bracelet he had been the same old student incapable of flawless uptake and performance. The duel against Blaise had been blatantly one sided, Blaise had bowed properly and waited for the count but whoever was in control had struck first and with a far more lethal spell than any Neville would have used.

As for Ginny, it was true she was eating out of the palm of this monster's hand but she had changed; she wasn't the innocent girl she had been in that summer before term. Now she was caustic, anyone that didn't side with her was an enemy; anyone that was prettier, more popular, more capable was an enemy. Neville hated who she had become because of her constant companionship to this creature in his skin.

"That's rather hurtful Neville, but you're right for the most part; those boys will never look at you as anything more than a political leader, anyone who befriends you will expect you to take care of them when you become Minister. And without me to guide your wand, yes, you will be nothing more than that clumsy child incapable of waving your wand or brewing a potion without melting your cauldron.

But that was a lesson for dueling that you can keep, in the midst of a fight you aren't going to bow or wait for a three count before you begin. You must strike first and strike hard, eliminate your opponent with the first blow or else you will become nothing more than a corpse."

His footsteps were echoing off the walls now, the air colder than it had been before and the being that had control of Neville put a hand to the outside wall, rough to the touch and numbingly cold.

"Just a few more steps now Neville, we're almost done and then you'll be free of me."

The words were no more comforting now than they had been a few moments prior but there was something a bit more final to the way they were spoken now, somehow that meant something to Neville.

His captor left his hand on the wall as he walked forward and then he felt it, how the roughness of the wall disappeared; replaced with smoothness beyond the likes of glass or obsidian. On those surfaces his finger would drag, leave a streak of some sort but this was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

"If you had, I would be rather impressed since I penned you up in your little corner and drew the curtains all the other times we paid this little place a visit. No point doing that now, everything is about to fall into place and there's little harm in letting you play witness to my little show."

Neville felt his hand reach into his pocket and draw up his wand, felt the unicorn hair at its core tremble within the grip of the entity that possessed his flesh; there was nothing clean or honorable about this person, that much the young boy knew for certain.

"Coram Apertum Foris, Eximo Chimeara"

Neville watched as a ripple spread across the illusion of a stone wall where his hand had been, watched as cracks spread through the stone, dust shook from the ceiling and a roar the likes of which he had never heard before rend the air. The castle itself trembled at that roar, the bestial rage that was accompanied by the keening wail of a hundred tortured children.

The wall before him exploded outwards, thousands of lights in every hue he could imagine and beyond raced past him in a terrifyingly beautiful display. It took a few moments for his sight to return though when it did it felt gritty and prickly and the world had somehow changed.

It was like watching lightning running through everything, he could see the magic that tied the stones of the castle together; hundreds of thousands of threads composed from light that weaved amongst one another. Separately weak by woven together brick by brick, stone by stone they were powerful beyond measure; bolstered by the magic of the Heads of each House and the Headmaster.

To Neville's eyes it was a mash of colors, a cacophony of magic; but part of him saw the tapestry of history laid before that reached into the past to the very founding of the school and the glimmering threads of crimson, cobalt, gold, and emerald that marked the very founders themselves.

"Consider yourself lucky Longbottom, few have ever seen the true beauty of magic… and its horrors."

Neville was helpless to stop as his captor turned his eyes towards the wall he had cast the spell at; revealing what appeared to be a section of silvered mirror that ran the length of the corridor but trapped on the other side of the reflection were dozens of faces, each one fixed in the rigors of agony as their eyes begged for succor. In the midst of them all was a woman with fiery red hair, bedecked in chains of amethyst that pinned her in place and the monstrous chimera that Neville had only felt breath against the back of his neck.

The magical beast, stalked towards the mirror; looming ever greater in size until it towered over the frame of the boy as it stepped through the mirror, tendrils of silver clung to its hide before snapping away as it stepped into the dungeons.

"The time is upon us; write out the message where they all can see."

Neville heard his voice speak and the way the creature bowed its mixed leonine and human head before it vanished from sight as though it had been draped by a giant invisibility cloak. The only evidence that it had even come into the world was the lingering scent of putrid meat and blood that hung in the air.

Neville felt his face contort into a smile, his reflection showed him how cruel and wicked it looked, and he was horrified that his face could even take on such a look. It was also the last thing he saw as he felt himself shoved and stuffed back into the shadowy recess of his mind that prohibited him from sensing anything going on with his physical self.

* * *

><p>Dinner in the Great Hall had become something of a subdued affair since the suspension of Dumbledore and the sacking of Lockhart; it was as if the whole school was waiting on bated breath for the next piece of news that would shake the school. Students talked in hushed voices or ate in silence with periodic glances at the High Table, where they could see Professor Riddle sitting in the throne like chair of the Headmaster.<p>

It seemed that most had gotten used to the Defense instructor occupying the seat and the fact that things seemed to have returned to normal had helped, no further attacks had happened to the students and classes were running smoothly. It seemed that the worse was behind them but there was still the unshakeable feeling that there was something coming.

Then the tables shook, goblets rattled and fell over as plates danced on the table and the candles hanging in the air above them were snuffed out as by a giant's breath. As was the norm there was that one crystalline moment that hung in the air before the first scream of fear was heard and aroused all the others of its like but in that moment came the guttural roar of a creature that chilled the blood and inspired absolute fear.

The fear that had your heart in your throat as the sympathetic nervous system shifted blood from the stomach to the arms and legs, preparing them for flight or fight. The fear that turned breathing shallow and rapid as the heart began to pound sending surges of adrenaline though the body as every sense came alive like it had never done before.

And then came the chorus of agony, of a pain unlike any that anyone had experienced before and it robbed the body of air and left student and teacher alike rooted to their seat, paralyzed with abject terror. It was the scream of the dead, those who were mortally wounded and could fear the cold grip of death as it spread from the fingers and toes and worked its way to the core, robbing you of warmth and breath until all that was left was the last shuddering gasp before eternal stillness.

The students of Hogwarts had not yet heard such screams but Harry had, he had seen the battlefield; through his eyes Iris now looked. She saw the faces of Colin, frozen and pale; of Fred and Remus and Tonks, students who were known only in passing but had laid broken and fallen. Where others were stilled, she was moved to action; Iris looked at the teachers and saw mirrored resolve creep up in McGonagall and Flitwick, saw Snape's hands clench on his wand, saw the relaxation in Tom as he stepped back into a world where war was the norm and he was intimately familiar with it.

Above the doors of the Great Hall a message was carving itself into the stone where all could see it, "You who would be Judged, the Trial is upon thee; cometh to mine chamber or find your world damned to darkness. Your charge, He Who Did Not Perish, lays here a Prisoner of Man even as you are. Master of Death and Chosen by She, I bid you bear Witness."

Iris and everyone else in the room read the message as it was carved into stone, but where they were filled with cold dread she was filled with fire, molten rage ready to be unleashed surged beneath her flesh. She was being summoned by Hufflepuff to stand the Trial; the threads of command that Dumbledore had buried in her now urged her to save his Savior; and in front of the whole school she had revealed the truth of Hecate and Harry.

Someone it seemed was smart enough to riddle some of the message out but wasn't smart enough to keep it to themselves since they shouted, "It's Neville! The Boy Who Lived has been taken to the Vault!"

The words broke the silence that had fallen on the room and like a spillway opened, the other students began to scream and shout in panic. Afraid of what was happening but not knowing what to do until Riddle rose from his seat with all the fluid grace of a cobra ready to strike, dangerous and deadly; it was enough to cow many to stillness.

"I will not abide any chaos or panicking now, prefects are to escort the students to their common rooms and maintain order. Professors will be there to secure the entrances and secure the school." Riddle didn't even raise his voice as he gave his instructions but it carried across the room like a shouted command.

To the professors at the High Table he was deftly issuing orders and had them organizing the children, moving to secure the moving staircases and lock down the school. He kept the Heads of House for last and amongst them Minerva was final, and from the way she glanced at Iris; the young witch had some idea why she had been the last to receive her directions.

Riddle knew as well as she did that she was the one who was being summoned, with Dumbledore's power over her; every moment she didn't spring to action was a moment of a building pain. By the time Gryffindor's head of House had descended from the staff table and began getting her students moving, Iris felt as if someone was jabbing her with the butt of a broom handle.

"Iris, head to the infirmary; Professor Riddle is going to seal the Hospital Wing for safety and he feels that you'll be more tolerable manageable watching over your sister than arguing with me to go to her." McGonagall was obviously unhappy about giving the young witch that dispensation but there was also a good deal of concern in her voice and just the fact that she had addressed her ward by her given name was something.

Emerald eyes rose to meet jet and from those dark orbs she could feel what was akin to breeze blowing against her mental defenses, it was a split second decision but Iris opened her occlumency barriers and caught the wind, holding it at the upper most level of her mind; the place of surface thoughts.

This was Legilimens at its most basic, mind to mind communication, at that level there was no lying, no hiding ulterior motives; whatever was passed along that wind from was the unfiltered truth.

Iris could feel Tom's concern, his urging her forward, his faith and trust in her, and overall the expectation that she would return and that if she didn't he would reach into the maw of the afterlife and dragging her kicking and screaming out for not following his instructions and then she would see what detention could really be like.

As the breeze eased she sent back a message of her own; her thanks for his instruction, her trust that he would keep her friends and sister safe, her iron will to see this thing through and emerge on the other side of it intact and whole. And as the breeze was sweeping out of her mind to his, an ember of her affection was caught up in it.

Borne from mind to mind, the rest of the world was completely oblivious to what was happening but Iris held onto her end of the thread and felt the rippling of glowing pride before the ember swept in and then she felt the echoes of his surprise and the warmth of an answering ember.

Closing her mental barriers she couldn't help the tic at the corners of her lips as she held the eye contact for a moment longer watching as he narrowed his eyes at her dangerously.

Riddle couldn't believe she would do something like that, now of all times; it infuriated him that she would use such a moment for her own gains but more overwhelmingly he was impressed by her cunning, it had been very Slytherin of her and that pleased him. In the end he knew he couldn't hold his death glare and do it seriously so he figured he might as well turn the table on her and so something she wouldn't expect either.

He gave her a genuine smile, and at her wide eyed expression of shock he rolled his eyes and jerked his chin for her to get moving; every moment she delayed she was in growing danger and pain.

Iris couldn't believe what she had just seen, Tom Riddle almost never smiled and of all of them she had managed to coax out of him that had easily been the least hidden one he had ever given her and it was both brilliant and beautiful on his aristocratic face.

Still he had a point, the momentary distraction had served to alleviate some of the tension that she was under but every delay meant that her bindings grew increasingly more urgent, the small jabs were now beginning to feel more akin to fiery pokers.

As she rose from her seat at the Gryffindor table Hermione stood with her and grabbed Iris by the elbow, she watched as her friend flinched from the grab as though she were in pain and she looked her best friend in the eye. "You're not going to the Hospital Wing are you?"

Iris met her friends gaze evenly, she wouldn't lie to Hermione and even if she had the capability she knew the other girl would see right through it, "No 'Mione, I'm not; there's something I've got to take care of and only I can do it."

The mousy brunette girl didn't like the way that sounded at all but Professor Riddle wouldn't have given her the dispensation to do whatever it was if he didn't think her capable of and Iris was more than equal to a challenge, Hermione had no doubt that if Iris wanted to she could take on just about any person in the castle and come out on top. More than just talented, Iris was a force of nature; standing in her way was like trying to stop a lightning storm, it wasn't possible.

"Alright, but you take care of yourself Iris; and don't think for a second you're getting out of telling me exactly what's going on." Hermione said as she embraced her friend.

Iris knew better than to argue that point with Hermione, though she might put it off until the rest of the gang was together so that she only had to do the telling once. Still she embraced Hermione just as tightly and when the girl relinquished her, Iris gave one last look at Tom and gave him a small nod before she darted for the doors.

She made her way for the milling crowd that was around the door as students began filing out with their prefects, ducking into the crowd she brought her left arm to her chest and muttered an incantation for the 'Notice Me Not' spell, and the sensation of slicked oil spread across her skin as the spell took effect.

Wandering into the dungeons beside the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, it seemed as though prefects and students were catching glimpses of crimson and gold amongst them but when they tried to pinpoint where the Gryffindor was in the crowd their eyes couldn't alight upon the individual.

Iris had a brief moment of worry as she couldn't remember exactly where the portal was but it seemed that she had little need, every step closer was a relief as the heat of the pokers eased back to the lesser jabs and in time it was more the nudging in the right direction than anything else.

When the nudging urged her away from the line of Slytherins she looked once at the faces of her friends, Draco, Daphne, and Blaise; laying a finger on the pendant that they all shared she took comfort from its presence as she turned away and peeled off down an adjacent corridor.

She picked up her pace as she moved further away from the crowds of people until she was moving at a brisk jog through the dungeon, the further she moved into the unused areas the further apart the torches seemed to be and the colder the air became until she could see the steam of her breath escaping in little puffs. She slowed her pace a step to account for the chill and the possible stitch that sucking down cold air could cause.

The nudging pushed her in the right directions until finally it seemed she had run from the cold dungeons into the middle of a winter snow. Even as she came to a standstill, her eyes burned with their inner fire and the gold specks had become rivers of gold. The world fell away then, leaving nothing but the truth for her eyes to behold.

The smooth wall, the door to the Vault was exposed to sight; a mirror with Hufflepuff's crest etched into the middle and the smallest indent right at the badger's mouth. Just as before she placed her finger in the indent and felt the pinch of the rodent's teeth as it took her blood.

The faces did not appear nor did Hufflepuff's image but the crest was soon traced and glowing brilliantly, pulsing in time with Iris' heartbeat and somehow she knew what she had to do. Placing her palm against the crest, the emblem flared at her touch and then she felt the all too familiar yank behind her navel as she was pulled through space and dropped into a forgotten workshop, half-finished projects were scattered about the room, mannequins wearing odd harnesses and clockwork machines that resembled living creatures.

"Welcome Iris, to the Vault of Iudicium."

* * *

><p><strong>Lir Castle, Scarlett Point, Isle of Man <strong>

The crashing of waves against stone is a thunderous sound, powerful and rhythmic with the coming and going of the tides; it was the heartbeat of the sea. He had forgotten how much he loved the sound, the way it lulled one to sleep with its hypnotic pulse and kept one's dreams on the safety of the sea. Many dreams of late had turned to nightmares, especially considering what knowledge was buried in the wrinkles of an old wizard's mind.

Dumbledore seldom ventured to the Isle of Man, he had purchased the ancient castle early in his tenure as the Headmaster of Hogwarts having foreseen that he might need to retreat from the world after the way the position had battered his mentor but he had never quite managed to separate himself from his duties, he always needed to be close at hand to help guide the Minister or he was shaping a promising student or convincing his fellows on the Wizengamot to make the appropriate decision.

It was a fulltime responsibility, one that seemed to demand more hours than were in a day or more days then fit in the year. But it wasn't one he would ever shirk or cringe from, except now he had no choice.

Where had he gone wrong? When had Lily become so resentful of him? When had he lost his ability to sway her?

The woman had gone mad after the attack on her daughter, it was as if she thought that he had gone out of his way to see that young Liatris came to harm. Had she any idea of what his duties called for there would be no question that he had done his utmost to safeguard his students, those young innocent wards that were even now being subjected to the unsupervised teachings of a former Death Eater and a man who had stood on the brink of becoming a Dark Lord if not for him.

He was only thankful that James was so even keeled, appropriate for the heir of a long standing Pureblood family; the man had proven to be a loyal follower and a trusted lieutenant. Keeping him apprised of some of the inner forces going on within the Ministry, there were certain things that only a well-respected Auror like him could get to and having such a resource was priceless.

James had assured him that once the situation at Hogwarts had blown over that he would make a few quiet plays to lift the suspension on the Headmaster and he would talk Lily around to agreeing with it; she was after all a member of the Order and if she was willing to trust the man with the fate of England than how could she object to his guidance of their children.

It was just a matter of time before he was returned to his rightful seat and once more took on the mantle of his responsibilities, but for now he would take the time to relax and plan for the future. The Ring of Obedience had been a good play for the short term but it was too brutal and far to exposing should it ever come to light what he had done.

It had been a hasty decision and while it had served him well, there were more effective means of going about accomplishing one's goals and it was far better to give people a choice in the matter. Peter was evidence of that, a man who was led and guided and allowed the illusion of choice was a far better tool than one that had to be ground and forced to do your bidding.

He was immensely relieved that Iris was such a young girl, still budding and capable of such malleability that if for a few months she had felt drawn to protect a boy then it could be played off as the simple attractions of a young heart and that would only make it easier to shape her as the fated sword that Neville would wield in his battle against Darkness.

Dumbledore's train of thought was interrupted by one of Fawkes's trills and the anti-apparition ward catching someone trying to come into his home. It took a moment to unravel who was now trapped in the defenses and the old Headmaster had a strong urge to simply pull the man's magic apart and render him into bloody chunks and the wards around the castle made to pull at the threads of magic that held his visitor together but he instead moved the man into a side room that he used for his less welcome guests.

It was a drab, ill-furnished room that had only one comfortable seat and that one had the appearance of the most uncomfortable high backed wooden chair that one ever did see. Dumbledore though it was a quite fitting place to receive Gilderoy Lockhart.

Albus rose from his seat in his private study with far more spryness then a man of his age might have the right to command but it didn't mean he had rush to greet his unwelcome visitor, he took his time wandering through the stone corridors, stopping every now and again to admire some of the paintings that his former students had donated to him or some quirky gadgets that had been gifted with.

By the time he stepped into the drawing room, Lockhart was looking absolutely feverish with rage as he paced back and forth, from the sharp wrinkles in the man's robe Dumbledore figured the man had tried for the sofa by the fireplace and discovered what furniture could do when enchanted with a mild pinching hex.

Lockhart whipped towards the sound of the opening door and watched as Dumbledore crossed the room at his leisure and sat in the wooden chair by the window, a flick of his wand opened the shuttered window and drew in the salted ocean air.

"Such a pleasant surprise to see you this evening Gilderoy, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore greeted the man with his grandfatherly smile once he had relaxed into his chair, the hard wood morphing to fit his shape and cradling him as charms activated to keep him warm but not hot as the cool evening air filtered into the room and offsetting what warmth the fireplace could provide.

"You know damn well what I'm here for Dumbledore! I know Potter is little more than a lapdog to you! If you tell him to heel, he'll heel like a good little bitch! So how about you give him that order before I have to spend my money dragging him, his wife, and his two little girls through the mud and leaving them homeless, knutless, and starving!" Lockhart shouted at his former Headmaster.

"I'm afraid that's not possible Gilderoy, you see while James is a dear friend and a man who respects me greatly; I have little desire to prevent him from ruining you. The crimes that you've committed are heinous, the fact that you're even in my home is about all the good will I have towards you at this point.

You were once a promising young man, perhaps a bit vainer than I thought wholly good for you but still quite promising. To see what you have become sickens me, you're little better than a Dark Wizard and I will gladly see you go to Azkaban for your deeds." Dumbledore retorted, the force of his vehemence seemed enough to startle Lockhart as the man ceased his pacing and he looked at Albus with a stunned expression.

And then he began to laugh.

It was not a laugh filled with mirth or humor, it was harsh, strained and just the slightest bit mad.

"How dare you! You compare me to a Dark Wizard! I've done nothing but follow your example! Yes, I sacrificed a few people; a witch here or a wizard there but I took their stories and created a legend, a figure who reached titanic proportions. I've donated countless fortunes to St. Mungo's, pulled the Ministry out of debt, my books have rejuvenating wizarding villages that would faded off the map in a few more years and now they're going to thrive for generations, growing fat and wealthy from my publications.

The Greater Good, Dumbledore! Just as you cried in the first War against the Dark; that in times of desperation a few need to be sacrificed so that good of the many would survive. Those villages were in desperation and they were too weak to make those sacrifices, those who I sacrificed made it so that the greater good would be done! I am no more a Dark Wizard than you yourself are!" Lockhart lashed out, brandishing a finger and pointing it square at Dumbledore's chest as he laid the man's own doctrine against him.

"How dare you compare yourself to me!? I saw friends die! Men and women I taught and loved as my own children I saw die! You have no idea what decisions I've had to make!" Dumbledore was seldom angry but Lockhart's words had spurred him, and as he took his feet he showed Lockhart just how spry he was as he advanced on the man his magic billowing out around him and making him appear giant in comparison to the con artist.

"Like enslaving a little girl with a Ring of Obedience!? Since when has the Light of England been given exemption to the very laws he swore to abide by as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot!? How dare I compare myself to you? How dare you hold yourself above me old man!? At least I had the decency to pick people who had a fighting chance, but you… how do you think James Potter is going to react when he learns that his great mentor has used some of the Darkest magic in the name of the Greater Good!?" Lockhart challenged with a feral smile, the light of victory had come into his eyes as he shouted the words and Dumbledore stumbled backwards as though struck by a physical blow.

"If I go down for this old man, I'm taking you with me; I'll snuff out the Light of England and leave this country to the wolves! And why shouldn't I, I'm going to Azkaban to stand as a Dark Wizard; I might as well act like one!"

It took him a moment to recover but Dumbledore rose just as tall as he was but his magic wasn't leaking out around him now, it was held back; a tidal wave ready to be unleashed and crush his opponent.

"Who will take your word over mine? You'll be discredited, a desperate man trying to lash out against his betters! And what proof do you have? I'm the strongest wizard on the British Isles, who is going to peer into the girl and see anything but what I want them to see?"

"Do you think it'll matter if I can prove it or not? Have you seen my following? How many people will swear to my innocence? Once you're associated with Dark magic it'll become a stain that you can't wash out, you know better than anyone Dumbledore, how many Slytherins come out of Hogwarts never casting a Dark spell in their life but because they come from Slytherin they are perceived as Dark wizards?

"How many mothers will demand your resignation on the principle of it alone? How many will demand investigations into every aspect of your life and tenure? What will they discover, I wonder?

"Like the principles of the gold ring on your right hand with all of its symbols and the composition of that ruby. How many people will be horrified to discover the blood of a little girl in it?" Lockhart railed on, stalking towards Dumbledore with a predatory smile as the old man, looking more ancient than he had in a long time, was forced backwards step by step until he fell back into that wooden seat.

Dumbledore's face was crumpled in a grimace, defeat written in the lines of his faces and the set of his shoulders. Lockhart beamed triumphantly down at the old goat who he had beaten into a corner, his fate inexorably tied to his own now.

He never saw the game change, never saw the hard steel that crept into Dumbledore's eyes or the way the fire in the grate flared brighter and hotter as it burned in sync with the anger that flared in Dumbledore's chest.

* * *

><p><strong>The Vault of Iudicium<strong>

Iris found her the hairs on the back of her neck standing upright as a cold weight seemed to dance in the girl's gut; she had heard that voice before and every instinct she possessed was warning her that it's owner was dangerous.

"I'm sorry that I didn't take the time to spruce this place up a bit but I wanted you to see this place in all its glory, undisturbed by living breath for so many centuries." The man with the ultramarine eyes said from across the room; his voice echoing through the workshop, bouncing off the unfinished works that stood silent vigil.

It struck Iris as incongruous that her instincts were reacting to a voice that had come from a handsome young man. He appeared no older than his mid-twenties but there was look to his face that shouted of a wildness to him, the sort that said that this was a man who would never surrender to anyone else rules; or someone that was never comfortable being anything less than in charge of a situation.

His skin was pale, reminiscent of marble and like some sculpture he was defined by high cheekbones that shaped a passionate gaze and mouth that seemed just a bit too big but it was easy to forgive him that with the sensual look to his Cupid's bow lips.

But she had learned to trust her instincts, they had been hard won and after her first appraisal of the man she could tell what had put her back up. There was an aura of cruelty that clung to him, it reminded Iris of cigarette smoke; the way that you could smell it on a person hours after the stick had burned to ash, trapped in the pores and breath.

She didn't want to take her eyes of him, wary of him and what he might do the moment she let her guard down but the man simply smiled at her though it didn't reassure her in the slightest.

"Calm down little one, I have no intention of harming you; if I had wanted to I would have had ample opportunity to do so long before you came here. You are my guest of honor; I've long planned this little reunion." His smile was gleeful now, nearly manic as though she was some sort of obsession of his that he finally gotten a fix of.

"Reunion? I think I'd remember you if I had seen you before." Iris replied as she took a step closer, watching him carefully to see how he reacted to her words. She wasn't disappointed in that respect; she could visibly see the darkening of his eyes as anger crept into them though his smile never faltered for moment. It just seem a dichotomy of expression that lent itself to someone that was unbalanced and that kind of instability with the ability to do magic was only to present a danger, memories of Bellatrix Lestrange laughing came to mind unbidden.

"Hmm, is that so? I've been so looking forward to meeting you again; you've never strayed far from my thoughts, you know? I can see why he's so interested in having you for himself or better to say why I'm so interested in having you. But not to worry, everything will be cleared up in just a moment; you can just blame good ol' Albus for your gap in recollection, thinking that he's protecting you or serving your best interests. Bah! Oh, Helga; I've need of your services my sweet." He crowed cheerfully and for a frightful moment Iris thought that Helga Hufflepuff had risen from the grave, so real was the woman that shimmered into existence.

After all, the young witch had seen ghosts before but nothing like what arose before her now. She wasn't bleached of color or transparent but opaque and garbed in long flowing robes of amber colored cloth, it was fashioned simply without any of the gaudiness that a man like Lockhart would chose or the mystic grandness that a man like Dumbledore was prone to.

Every person pushed out a message of who they were with the clothes they dressed, some chose to portray a grandiose image that matched the title but not the person; others wore vestments to cloak themselves from rather more insidious comparisons than grandfatherly and wise if a bit eccentric.

The image she presented was of a strong, self-of assured witch who needed no spectacular display to prove that she was superior or somehow more powerful than others. She was very much like Professor McGonagall in that sense, she was just who she was with no added ostentation.

Or she would have save that she was swaddled in chains, each link blackened by amethyst flames that licked eagerly at the air. As the apparition approached her summoner the flames hissed excitingly as though it were pet seeking its master's attention.

"Helga, this is Iris. Iris this is Helga, more specifically the shade of the Founder; an automaton programmed to act as the Judge; you've met before but I don't think you've ever been formally introduced." The man spoke as though he were talking to a pair of a dinner guests, though that was perhaps a poor analogy; Hermione had shared with her a Muggle story of a man named Hannibal Lecter and the man with his blue eyes certainly looked the type to eat his guests.

"I'm sure you've heard the stories so I won't bother spouting it back to you but the thing that everyone always forgets to mention is just who the most dangerous of the Founders were. People are prone to say cunning Slytherin, others think it's the valiant Gryffindor, some the wise Ravenclaw but ol' Hufflepuff… she never enters the equation.

"I always found that to be rather pejorative, you see Hufflepuff was a creator. She wasn't the most cunning or the bravest or the smartest of her compatriots but that woman had vision. And nothing is more dangerous than someone with vision and the will to see it through."

The man with the ultramarine eyes reached out and grasped the woman's chin roughly, jerking her towards him as he looked into her eyes with a smile that was equal parts cruel and amused. "Now then Helga, why is it so dangerous? Show my guest just what it is that your creator was able to accomplish."

As he spoke the amaranthine chains shifted, moving to resemble a harness more than anything else but with the increased slack; Iris could see a coil of the chain wrapped itself around the woman's throat like a collar. The flesh bulged around the edges as it wrapped tightly across the pale skin; marring it with dark bruises freshly formed.

Still, the automaton raised its hand up and swept it to the side as though she were parting a curtain, and indeed she was; for a brief moment Iris's eyes perceived something beyond what was in the room as a creature she had never seen before stepped forth carrying a sack over its shoulder. It deposited its cargo roughly to the floor as the door sealed behind it and the witch saw Neville's pale face grimace in pain as though he were stuck in the throes of a nightmare.

She expected to feel the incessant push she had felt at her back since the message carved above the Great Hall's door at the mere sight of the boy obviously in pain and under threat; she prepared herself for the psychic lance that would usher her forward into a blind charge as another's will and magic compelled her forward.

But no such push touched her, nor jab nor poke.

Her bewilderment must have shown since the man wasted no time in filling the silence once again; the thought crossed her mind that he was one of those people who much loved to hear the sound of their own voice. Just what she needed in her life, she was finally rid of Lockhart's pomp and now she had to deal with this guy's; though at least he had just been an idiot teacher with a knack for memory charms. This guy was definitely a killer, memories came to mind of Death Eaters doing battle in the courtyard of the castle and the look they had in their eye.

"That's right dear girl, down here you're cut off from the Ring; the connection is tenuous at best over long distances but here… with the amount of magic used to hide the Vault, to utterly seal it away from the world; there isn't the remotest chance of Dumbledore's will coming into play here." The man with the ultramarine eyes stated with a sneer of contempt for the Headmaster, "I'm appalled by what's been done to you my dear but I'm here to fix all that now."

Iris took the time that her… ally? Enemy? Was using to gloat over his genius to inspect the chimera that had deposited Neville and was now circling around to her back, tawny fur stretched across a humanoid figure easily half as tall again as any man that the girl knew and at least as wide as two men. Its legs ended in cloven hooves like those of a goat though much larger than any she had seen and its entire frame was covered in powerful musculature, rippling just under the surface like some great predator. Arms ended in hands but those fingers ended in claws, black as night and razor sharp.

What was really striking though was the creature's face or rather faces, for just as mounted on its shoulders was leonine man with a mouth full of teeth, stretching away from its body as a tail was a serpentine form. At the end of a body that was as wide as she was, was a woman's face though her eyes were as reptilian as any she had ever seen before. But unlike the snakes Iris had communed with in the woods beyond her home there was an ancient intellect behind the eyes of this creature.

It struck her that the chimera might not be the man's creation but Hufflepuff's; chimeras were bred following a set of protocols but if the Founder had put herself to the task then the same person that had shaped and warded the Vault and created the Judge could easily have bred a magical beast and bound it to act as the executioner to the Trial and thus whoever sat the bench would have command of it.

"Nearly ready now, just one more detail before the stage is set." The words drew Iris's attention back to the man as Helga looked at his guest of honor; eyes older, wearier, and full of pain met the young witch's attention as her hand lifted and made a waving motion with; no wand or incantation, just a simple gesture.

To which an explosion of pain bloomed behind Iris's eyes; her Occlumency barriers hadn't even been touched by whatever magic was being worked upon her mind but as she dove into her own thoughts like a swimmer into the sea she was certain that this was a level of Legilimency beyond anything anyone currently possessed, not even Voldemort the most powerful Legilimens that lived could be so skilled.

The magic that the automaton commanded bored into the girl's mind and found memories bundled in golden threads of magic that shone with brilliance but that had been covered over by feelings of shame, and revolt, and duty so powerful that it must have steered her consciousness clear of poking into it.

But Helga, or the remnant of the Founder, brushed those feelings away and cleaved through the webs; memories of the previous year burst forth and rushed to fill gaps that Iris had sensed but never really noticed.

The encounter with Grindelwald, the revulsion of seeing Neville staring in sickening fascination as a pool of dark red blood spilled out from a severed throat; a throat that she had severed herself as bidden to do by a foreign command that had rang through her body and usurped her will.

The magic tore her out of that sea of memories and showed her another web, one made of black silk that seemed to crawl under the sudden scrutiny, trying to ooze back into the recesses of obscurity but it was dragged forward and given no room to retreat as each thread was burned away.

Hidden within were the memories that Grindelwald had hidden away with his spell, and thus she learned that she had been controlled, manipulated and been an agent to the Dark Lord as he fed off her molten hatred.

Before she had opportunity to even analyze what she was feeling, the magic dragged her deeper into herself, and into the cellar of her thoughts; it swept past the threads of jade and gold that had carried the weight of happiness and serenity that she had put over the molten fire that thrummed through her. Outrage, fury, pain and hatred; she was made to acknowledge them, that she couldn't block her own memories of what was done to her.

And when she thought she was about to burst, she was dragged back to reality; raw and hurting from the broken memory spells and being forced to relive some of the worst moments of her new life. It was a cacophony of tumultuous emotions going off within her but there was one that howled loudest in her own mind, it ate and swallowed everything until only it remained.

Hatred filled her; she hated how Dumbledore had used her, violated her, made her a pawn in his war, hated him for making her kill. She hated Grindelwald, he had made her party to enslaving another person, to trapping them in the same hell she had been forced to live in. But then came the knowledge that Grindelwald had also been the root cause of her isolation, of how everyone had turned on her save for her closest friends, how he had used the chimera to hurt her sister.

That last thought centered her, the image of seeing Liatris lying pale and unmoving on a bed in the Hospital Wing. Magic welled up in her and the beast that her hatred had become snarled, looking through her eyes upon her tormenter and it snapped its jaws hungrily; teeth flashing in the darkness as thunder rolled and lightning cleaved the sky.

She smiled at Grindelwald and Grindelwald felt a foreign chill climb up his spine like the whispering of a knife.

Grindelwald was afraid.

* * *

><p>Grindelwald smiled to himself as he watched the witch's eyes roll back into her head and she collapsed as Hufflepuff's magic ran through the girl's mind, unraveling the blocks that Dumbledore had put on the girl's mind. Showing her how the old man had forced her to do his bidding.<p>

Once she learned just what she had been made an accomplice to there would be nothing holding her back from taking revenge on the man who had enslaved her and if he was the one who provided her the means with which she could free herself than surely she would owe him her loyalty and he would reward it by tutoring her to be the Dark Lady of England, a force so terrifying that none would dare oppose her.

He stepped over to the limp form of the Longbottom child, the meatsuit which he had used for much of the year as a vessel for his greatness; it would only be a moment of time now until his purpose was done and he could be rid of the silly obstacle that had barred him from total success thirteen years ago.

'But how did you survive the killing curse when no one else has? How is it that you live but I was nearly destroyed?' Gellert thought to himself as he squatted down beside the boy, not quite daring to lay a hand on the child's flesh. He had been able to control the child without impunity, after all the boy had freely chosen to wear the bracelet and give him access. Even the possession had been done without meaning the child and direct harm, but now… how would things go when he began the ritual?

The growl he heard from his pet alerted him to the girl's stirrings and he did not try to suppress the pleasure he felt at feeling her magic awakening alongside her, the rumblings of a distant thunderstorm that loomed ever nearer. He watched as her body relaxed and her eyes returned blazing brighter than ever, the Avada Kedavra green now fixated on him and he could tell that she was aware of just who he was now.

Good, he'd disliked the taste of anonymity; he much preferred to be recognized. And feared.

But this wasn't right. There wasn't any fear in her, the way her eyes glittered and the way she smiled, it was like he was looking at a completely different person. What he was staring at was not a twelve year old girl, that was a sorceress; dark and terrible and unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Grindelwald could feel a prickling sensation along the length of his spine as fear flared up in him for the first time since he had dueled Dumbledore all those years ago.

"I see that you remember me now, so you must know then what Dumbledore made you do. The way he used you to get what he wanted, manipulating you for his own purposes; making you into little more than a tool. For the sake of this boy, the savior that he revers, there is nothing he won't do to see this boy live and so long as he does you will forever be a slave to his machinations." Grindelwald watched as Iris rose to her feet now and glanced down at Neville; lying motionless on the floor at his feet save for the flickering of eyelids as nightmares ran rampant in his mind.

"Yes, I remember you Gellert. I remember full well what Dumbledore's magic made me do, I remember the pain in my hand as I slit Quirrel's throat with a shard of glass. I know how he's used me to further his own agenda.

"I also remember how you used me, feeding of my hatred so that you could gain more strength; how you used me to enslave a boy and then sealed those memories away. I know now that it was you that attacked my sister in the library and put her in the Hospital Wing. The reason why every breath she takes is wrought with pain and how the nurse dares not wake her for fear that the agony would be overwhelming." Iris spoke softly but it mattered little in the silence of the Vault, not when compared to the quiet thunder that her voice possessed.

He had heard the girl's voice, the way she talked among the other students, the way she talked to her friends and sister, the way she exulted after a Quidditch victory. The Sorceress that addressed him now sounded nothing at all like the child he was familiar with; she possessed a terrifying majesty that commanded attention and respect.

Gellert quietly drew the boy's wand from his back pocket suddenly unsure of what was happening. Somehow he had lost control of the situation, she had regained all of her memories and not just the ones that he had wanted her to see.

Grindelwald barely noticed how the Chimera seemed to be purring at Iris's side as he turned his head to see how Helga's shade was smiling at him knowingly. She had followed his command and showed the girl why someone with vision was so dangerous, because they didn't play by the same rules as everyone else. They played to win.

* * *

><p><strong>Lir Castle, Scarlett Point, Isle of Man<strong>

"Like I said Dumbledore, if I go down for this; I'll drag you along with me. I will shatter the British Isles before I allow it to put me in Azkaban! How best do you serve the Greater Good now, old man!? By keeping one man out of Azkaban and preserving the nation? Or by sending him away and destroying your entire power base?" Lockhart demanded, knowing full well that the old man could only respond in one way.

He was too proud to allow himself to lose everything in the name of bringing a few no name hacks some justice. The Greater Good that he revered would compel him to set one man free for the sake of preserving a nation.

"I misjudged you Gilderoy, you are far more clever than I ever considered you to be. You have an old man beat and I'm sure that if were clever enough to put this all together then you must have surely left some means with which to disperse this information should you by chance vanish." It must have been painful for Dumbledore to concede his defeat but Lockhart couldn't care less if Dumbledore suffered a hundred Cruciatus Curses, he had won and now the Headmaster would have to use all of his political power to let him go free.

"Of course I have, my attorney has instructions to release the evidence to the press should I not return from this meeting, should I be convicted, or if I should perish. Your fate is tied to mine old man, in short; you're my bitch from now until the day you die." Gilderoy didn't hide his smugness at being able to say that to the singularly most powerful man in England, perhaps even the world.

"Very well Gilderoy, I shall use my utmost power to see that so bleak a future never comes to pass as the one that you have described. Come with me so that you might see how I spare you a sentence in Azkaban." Dumbledore said solemnly as he rose from his seat appearing for all the world a broken and decrepit man, not unlike a dozen other such wizards and witches that he had destroyed in pursuit of his own glory and power.

They walked in tense silence as the Headmaster strode through the ancient passageways of the castle, the sound of the sea echoing through every stone and some unseen magic made every candle and torch they passed burn with a greater radiance as they passed by as though to better illuminate their way.

Lockhart had a brief moment where he considered taking this castle from the man too, to claim so great a spoil as victor of their duel would be the final slight to the fool who thought that he could look down at a man such as he. The thought died quickly as they passed a window slit that looked over bleak and rocky shores and a distant lighthouse that the Muggles had built. He would much prefer his penthouse in London or the numerous other flats and lofts he had that would bring him closer to his adoring public.

Dumbledore led him into a grand study; towering bookcases lined the walls and stretched towards the ceiling while no fewer than a dozen braziers stood about the room to ward off the chill of the stone. But most interestingly was the massive cauldron that seemed to be recessed into the floor in the middle of the room, bubbling and hissing in a most unpleasant way. Written in chalk upon the stone floor were numerous arcane runes that curled about in what was most certainly an intentional design. Had he the ability to see from on high, he was certain that it would reveal itself into some grand sigil.

A number of candles burned with scents both familiar and strange, he could readily pick out some of them, sage and honeysuckle and jasmine but there were far more that confounded him and many that were far more putrid. It filled the chamber's rafters with a faintly purple haze and the whole room felt… heavy, as if there was some phantom weight that was trying to bear him to the ground.

"What is all this? Working some kind of spell are you Dumbledore?" Lockhart asked as he turned to look at the mighty Headmaster, dressed in his regal old robes with his back straight and eyes clear it was almost a wonder how he had managed to subdue such a man with a few words and threats.

But then he was still just a wizard, a mortal man, ancient and strong as he was.

"Yes indeed Gilderoy, though its more potion then spellwork; I'll clarify if you'll allow me to indulge myself a bit before we move on to the business at hand. You see, the Ring of Obedience was only ever supposed to be a temporary measure; as I'm sure you're aware Iris is rather special so far as students go.

"Children like her, so full of magic that there simple existence changes the course of history; they are recognized in their adulthood as Lords and Ladies of magic. At some point in the future the stone of this Ring will simply break, no longer able to withstand the tug of war that is the will of the bearer and the will of the bound. Such a time is not fast approaching, I have at least until her seventeenth birthday before I need worry about it but then it'll be only a matter of time before I lose the ability to hold her in check.

"So I devised of another method, in hindsight it was the method I should have used first but at the time I was more concerned with fending off Gellert than creating a long term method of shaping her into the weapon I'll need her to be when he returns to power." Dumbledore explained as he strode forward into the chamber and towards the cauldron, stopping at the edge of the toiling concoction he peered into its swirling depths.

"What Iris needs is for someone to show her the path, since you have deduced what means I have used to compel her along the path then most assuredly Tom has as well. He will have poisoned her against me and she will have swallowed it wholeheartedly for why shouldn't she? So it cannot be me who leads her along the path to Light and I dare not trust anyone else with the instruction of so vital an asset.

"Herein lies the solution, I will create for her a mentor; every bit as learned as I and wholly loyal to me and my goal. It will lead her along the path of Light and righteousness, train her to be the weapon that will be used in the coming War and bring about a new era of peace. It is unfortunate that you will not be around to see it Gilderoy, but sacrifices must be made for the Greater Good."

Lockhart was staring at the man's back blankly for a long moment before his words sank in and when they did he took a step forward and raised his arm to draw his wand on Dumbledore, but as he opened his mouth to throw vexations and threats he found that he could not utter a single oath. He was too busy screaming.

Dumbledore stood silently, watching as the light from the braziers cast a shadowy play of Gilderoy Lockhart and the column of smoke that was sweeping down his gullet. He felt a small pang of regret for using such a means to ensure the success of his plans, but the blond man had threatened the future of the British Isles for the sake of his own vainglory.

He watched as the man stumbled forward, his wand falling and clattering on the ground as he fell to his knees and scrambled for balance; felt when hands grabbed fistfuls of cloth from the hem of his robes as lips turned blue from the lack of breath but he did not move until the last wisp of smoke had passed through Lockhart's spread jaw.

And with the smallest bending of his will, Dumbledore felt his magic lash out like a savage blow that swept his former student off the ground and deposited him unceremoniously in the cauldron.

He looked on as a single bubble rose up to the top and burst open, the last gasp of Gilderoy Lockhart; Honorary Member of the Defense League, Order of Merlin recipient, and three time Witch Weekly Best Smile winner.

He felt it as a piece of his soul was broken and blackened from the murder but he would live with his pain… for the Greater Good.

* * *

><p><strong>Vault of Iudicium<strong>

"So what was the plan Gellert? You lured me down here, unlocked my memories, and thought that I would kneel down to you so that I could take revenge on Dumbledore? Does that sound about right?" Iris asked as she reached out a hand to stroke the chimera's fur covered arm, smiling to herself as the creature purred contentedly at her touch.

Grindelwald was at a loss but he scrambled to recover, to regain control of the situation; "My plan was to give you your freedom, the means to break the hold that Dumbledore has on you. The old fool has ordered you to protect this wretched boy's life, let me kill him and that Ring's hold is broken and I can teach you all you need to know to destroy him and together we will command the British Isles."

"Ah, yes I recall; the enslavement of the Muggles and Muggleborns alike. You'll preserve the mighty ancestry of the purebloods and hold true to the old ways, celebrating the rebirth of life at Yule; and the lamentation of Midsummer, the wild dances of Walpurgis and Samhain as we celebrate in the forces of magic. You'll reeducate all of them who have forgotten what it means to be of wizarding blood, and unite us with all of our brethren; vampires and werewolves, goblins and centaurs, every fey and Giant free to exist as they once did." Gellert's vision was laid out before them in Iris's voice, a world where the need for secrecy and hiding was unnecessary because wizards would rule over it all.

"It would be a future that anyone would be proud to live in but what of the cost? How many wizards will die trying to hold the Ministry together? How long do we need to teach the Muggles? A generation? Two perhaps? But that's a pittance to the life of a wizard, how do we know that they'll worship our ways like they once did? It'll have to be a century, long enough ago that anything different will just have been history." Iris shattered the vision and replaced it with another, one where London lay broken and smoking as bodies littered the streets, the gutters running crimson with blood.

"What then would you do Iris? You will have to answer that question soon enough, do you know how powerful you are? There isn't a student in this castle that can duel you as you are now and win! By the time you turn seventeen there will be only three other wizards in all of the Isles that will be your equal in strength! Just by drawing breath you will affect the balance of power, you will draw followers and enemies with every action and inaction!

"What do you do!? Will you submit to the Ministry as Dumbledore does and become a puppeteer as you prey on your lesser and manipulate them to enact the changes you desire? Do you retreat from them all and become a hermit, afraid to wield your power for fear of what others will condemn you as? Or do you fight for what you believe?"

Grindelwald's face was contorted with fury as he shouted at Iris, stepping over Neville's prone form he pointed the boy's wand at her as he drove home his arguments and passions.

"I've seen you Iris, I saw your disgust at Halloween and how you ache that all the rest of the world has forgotten their histories, how they have forgotten the songs and dances to celebrate life and honor the dead, how you miss the kiss of heat as you pass through the fires! I fight to bring that back, of what consequence are the lives of Muggles that are snuffed out at a whim when it is they and their offspring that drown us!?"

"I will not hide away from sight but nor will I hold the life of anyone else as lesser to my own; I refuse to be party to the slavery and killings of Muggles for fear of what they represent! Every Muggleborn student that wanders the halls of Hogwarts can learn the Old Ways, the histories and songs and dances if we but make an effort to teach them!

"The Ministry is no different, it makes laws because the people fear and do not understand, what is a werewolf but a man afflicted by a disease as any other could be. Show them that it can be managed and that we have the means, how long then before discrimination cannot be justified? Treat with the Giants as equals and see to their needs, look to our vampires as witnesses to history and learn from them, look to our brethren in the forests to see what magic abounds beyond our knowledge.

"The Muggles had their Renaissance four centuries ago, is it not time for our own age of enlightenment?" Iris met Gellert's eyes with a fierce gaze of her own, she did not quail at the sight of the drawn wand or how it was pointed at her, instead she calmly spoke on, "Now you extol yourself as the Teacher, if that be the case then I will offer you the opportunity to lay down your wand; release the boy from whatever machinations you hold and join with my cause. If you do not, I will declare you my enemy and gladly take my vengeance against thee for all of the harm that you have committed. The choice is yours."

Few people had ever managed to give Grindelwald pause; Dumbledore was one, Voldemort another, but he could see Iris would be one as well if given the time to grow and develop. Now, while she was dressed in a school girl's uniform might be the best time to put her down; it was evident that she was no supporter of his but she was young and as yet unexposed to the world and it's cruelties.

One day she might reconsider and come to his side as apprentice or ally. One day she might stand opposite him on a battlefield beside Dumbledore, a weapon to slay him and Voldemort. One day she might take the field for herself, an army of her own with which she would sow her vision of the future.

The end possibilities were finite but there was still time to win her to his side in the future, but only if she broke free of Dumbledore's control and that required her to do what was needed even if he had to force her hand.

Iris studied Grindelwald in silence as he came to his own conclusions but as he settled on his decision she nodded and faintly inclined her head to him; mindful of her manners before she threw her hand forward and with a flash and howl the world turned to white as lightning flared into being and leapt forth to tear out his throat.

The Dark Teacher barely had enough time to raise a hasty shield charm but even then he could feel the intense heat of the spell as the hairs on his arm shrank and curled back on themselves. When at last the heat dissipated his vision was little more than a blob of green and red, sightless he flung out his wand and a cone of hail erupted, each piece of ice a dirk onto itself that would cut anything in its path to ribbons.

Iris felt the furred arm of the chimera close around her middle before the great beast leapt to the side, bearing her along as a child might a doll; the creature's speed and strength were unbelievable as the room seemed but a blur. But she had only a moment to feel the awe of it as a torrent of chilly blades tore apart the works that stood about her formerly occupied space.

As the creature set her down on her feet, she was already freeing her wand from its sheath and felt it fall into her waiting hand as spells drilled into her mind over two lifetimes sprang to mind. She settled on one to accompany the flash of lightning and let loose, "Attonitus!" A peal of thunder sounded in Gellert's ear as the spell connected, striking him deaf and blind and utterly disorientated.

Hours of dueling instruction from Professor Riddle had instilled a number of lessons deep into Iris's mind, "Strike fast, strike hard, and when you have a moment to strike down your opponent… take it, for they would surely do the same to lay you low." And unlike any other student that he had probably taught, such a lesson was not an abstract concept but vivid truth. So as she saw Grindelwald reeling backward from both spells she aimed her wand at the base of his neck and intoned, "Sectumsempra."

A brief flash of white lit the tip of the wand and then came the faint skirl of a blade slicing through the air. To Iris's eyes, seeing the magic of the world overlaid upon the physical world; she could make out the silvery trail that limned the passing of the invisible sword up to the moment that it cut into the man's neck and sliced through flesh and bone to separate his head from his body.

She could not tear away her gaze as she watched Grindelwald's youthful visage tumble from his shoulders as his headless figure stumbled without direction, there was a look of surprise on his face as the head traveled to the ground and as it flipped end over end she could only watch in mute horror as his surprise gave way to grin of amusement just as it faded from sight like some sort of specter.

The headless body ceased to stumble as a disembodied voice cut through the silence, "Very good Iris, I see Riddle has taught you well but I'm afraid you can't kill me; not so long as I have to boy. If you want me dead, you'll have to kill the Boy Who Lived; so come dear Lady and slay me." His derisive laughter filled the air as Neville stirred from his tortured sleep and was lifted to his feet by phantom strings.

The remnants of Grindelwald's body handed over the wand before it too faded from sight and left Neville standing alone; ultramarine eyes staring out of a face where the did not belong. "If you do not kill the boy then I'm afraid you'll leave me with no recourse but to kill you which is lamentable given my hopes for our future together. So choose Iris, you who would not place the value of a life as less than your own, who dies tonight? You or this wretched boy?"

Iris flinched as the Dark Teacher threw her own words back at her, challenging her to live or die by her own morality. It was one thing to fight an adversary on a battlefield, the lines were clearly drawn then; kill the person who threatened your life or you perished but how do you fight an enemy that hides behind the flesh of innocents?

You could call them coward and craven but of what use was that when still you could not strike them down? Did you strike down the innocent to get to the foe? Was the life of one innocent saved worth the price of hundreds more killed later?

Iris decided that it wasn't, one life could not outweigh the life of many; if Grindelwald was allowed to win here than many hundreds would die later and she had the power to stop that from happening and thus the responsibility to stop that from happening.

Iris raised her wand, holly and phoenix feather, the tip aimed for Neville's heart.

Grindelwald smiled triumphantly and held out his arms to his side.

Emerald eyes, burning bright with the flame of magic, looked up at the lightning bolt scar that blemished Neville's forehead and remembered when she had borne the same mark. She wondered if Alice's protection would shield Neville from Iris's spell but it didn't seem likely.

The words formed on her lips and Grindelwald's smile grew wider, "Avada-"

"_Stay thy hand Lady, another means to victory lies at hand; when enemies hide behind innocents you must flank them and strike from their exposed back. Release me of this binding chain and I will deliver unto you the means to slay this wizard." _

The words leapt into Iris's mind, a woman's voice; sage and strong, bypassing her Occlumency barriers as only the Judge had managed. Her eyes flitted to the woman and she caught those learned sapphire eyes as she raised her chin almost imperceptibly, the black chains with their amaranthine flames exposed and forgotten in the moment.

Her gaze returned to Grindelwald's eyes as he looked out through Neville's body. Could she break that chain? Did she have any choice but to try?

"Keda-" Iris's magic swirled around her, a thunderhead that filled the room with the hum of a bolt unreleased. It was running through her veins in time with her heartbeat, dancing with the creature her hatred had birthed that want to cleave, and rend, and destroy those that hurt her.

Iris turned and threw all of her might and will forward, the beast bursting free of her as the wand's tip settled on the link that covered the Judge's larynx, unleashed by a single word.

"Finite!"

And for a moment the world was still, breath bated, heart's frozen.

The sound of metal snapping was but a whisper in the silence of the room. It was a bell ringing to those who heard it.

Graceful neck turned as the split chain fell to the floor with a rattling death cry, flames hissing as they were extinguished. Sapphire eyes met emerald, and sparkled with thanks. Sapphire eyes met ultramarine and glittered with anger.

The Judge changed before those gathered in the chamber, the mirrored image of Helga Hufflepuff thinned and grew taller; vibrant skin bleached and drew back as her robes fell to tatters and rags. What was left was a skeletal wraith, cloaked in the bones of a dozen mages; a dozen faces frozen in agony formed the clasp.

A bony finger shrouded in grey-green light lifted up from beneath mottled remnants of cloth and pointed at Neville's chest as a hollow voice came out of the skeletal throat, "I Judge thee deficient to hold the mantle of thy power. So found, I bind you to whence you came black soul and order thee never to work thy magicks again."

The Vault rumbled at the pronouncement as light filled the room, from the ceiling ancient runes long undisturbed flared brightly to life once more, glyphs lying dormant beneath centuries of dust awoke and swept back the layer of grime that had settled.

Iris moved absent her will as magic far older and more powerful than her seized her limbs, she stepped over a glyph to face the possessed child and felt her voice echo a script she had never seen, "I stand Witness to this Trial and find the Judged unfit of the mantle of their power. Let he be bound so and never work magic again."

"In accordance to the charge placed on me by the power of the Founders, in service to She, Mother of Magic; I condemn thee. Begone!" As the final word was pronounced Iris could fell herself released from the ritual's magic, but it was apparent that Grindelwald was not.

Neville's right hand was raised and the red gold bracelet that had encircled his wrist since the beginning of the semester was wreathed in the same grey-green aura that had surrounded the hand of the Judge.

To the young witch's eyes, she could see the rot and corruption of Grindelwald's magic recede from Neville's body. The taint was pulled back along the paths that it had crawled through, drawn back to the bracelet as Grindelwald's disembodied voice screamed in defiance and rage at being stripped of its host and having his power confined back into the links. When every last drop of the taint was gone from Neville's body the clasp opened and the bracelet dropped to the floor with a soft clink.

Neville collapsed shortly thereafter as the magic of the Trial fled him; deep in the recesses of his mind where he had been stuffed and imprisoned, he felt the walls of captivity crumbling away and sensation began to return. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he had been in control of his own body, he almost didn't remember how to move it but slowly it began to come back to him; when he managed to open his eyes for himself again he was looking at a dark ceiling with blindingly bright runes that seemed to pierce daggers into his eyes and he shut them tightly with a moan.

Hearing that moan was relief to Iris since it was Neville's voice once again but things weren't over yet, not so long as that bracelet still existed it would only be a matter of time before Grindelwald returned for his Horcrux and she was certain that was what it was.

The remainder of the original was out there, he had orchestrated the chain of events that had led up to this evening in an effort to recruit her to his side. If she left this Vault without the bracelet and Neville alive and well then it would be an open declaration of war against him. Even if she didn't side with Dumbledore in the future it would eventually come down to whether she was with him and Voldemort or against them.

And she knew her answer to that question already. She would fight them and their cause because while she wished to see a world of equality and shared glory, it could not be built on a cornerstone of tyranny.

"You've a difficult task ahead of you milady, a future fraught with danger and challenges from all sides… but such has always been the life of Her champions. I've faith that you will succeed in thy duties, this night I have Judged thee worthy of the mantle of thy power and in accordance to the will of the Founders in service to She, Mother of Magic; I will grant thee succor in times of need and aid if ever you need it."

Iris looked up at the soft female voice that spoke to see that the wraith had once more taken the shape of Helga Hufflepuff, just slightly plump with fiery red hair and the shining blue eyes of hers. The weight of the words and the magic in them settled on Iris shoulders like a warm blanket and brought her a feeling of security knowing that she had an ally in the dark days that would come before much longer.

Iris smiled at the figure with her thanks before looking back at the Horcrux that lay innocuously on the floor; only someone that knew what resided within it would ever suspect the piece of gold for what it was.

"Dwell not on it milady, I will take care of that problem in due time but first we must see to your own wellbeing. The Headmaster has done a terrible thing to you, a magic most cruel, I lament the restrictions placed on me that prohibits me from punishing him as he deserves but at the very least I can end his hold over you. I warn you, it will not be a pleasant experience." Helga spoke with a motherly tone as she stood at Iris's shoulder; Hufflepuff's final and greatest creation had proven to be no creation at all.

The Founder had chosen the lonely road of undeath, for nine centuries she had laid entombed beneath the very castle she had helped build and shape as a lich. Preserved by the magic of the Vault and the ritual magic she had sealed herself into she had acquired a form of immortality. For six centuries she had stood the vigil, defending the British Isles from those Lords and Ladies that would have upset the world before she had been sealed away. For three centuries more she had remained in case the world ever had need of her again.

"I'm not one for pleasant experiences it seems, I've seen few enough of them; but that's the price for walking the path. Let's be done with it as I suspect these evening is not near finished with me yet." Iris replied solemnly but gave the Founder a reassuring smile, she too had chosen her own path and for all the difficulties it would bring her she would not surrender the opportunity to leave the world in a better state.

Helga nodded in agreement as she raised her hand, the grey-green aura returning to it as her flesh took on the pale likeness of a corpse. Reaching out, the hand passed through Iris's chest without resistance but the girl gasped at the icy sensation of it; Helga paused for a moment for the girl to adjust before she seized the binding knot that tied Iris to the Ring and Dumbledore's enthrallment.

"Brace yourself milady, this will hurt something fierce I fear." Hufflepuff cautioned as she set her corporeal hand on Iris's shoulder as the girl took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come. Nothing could have prepared her for the pain; she was rendered breathless by it as her vision was filled with a red haze.

It seemed an eternity of agony as Hufflepuff cut and pulled on and worked the threads that held Iris prisoner; each knot undone, each anchor pried free was a fresh stab of agony that made the Cruciatus seem dull in comparison. Fiery lances of pain fired along her nerves and her very blood seemed to boil in her veins. She didn't know how many times she blacked out from the pain just to be dragged back out into a new hell.

When Helga finally drew her hand free of Iris's breast she had clutched in her spectral hand a mass of wriggling crimson threads, each one reaching for the girl from who it had been removed. She recoiled in disgust and fell heavily to the floor as her legs gave out beneath her, every muscle she had ached from being stretched taut with the agony that had wracked her body.

Even her eyes ached but she watched on as the wriggling mass blackened and smoked in the Founder's skeletal hand, the lich's magic destroying Dumbledore's creation with what could only be described as a smug satisfaction.

"That was a rather nasty variation on the Ring of Obedience; I'd very much like to flay the Headmaster's skin from him for creating that." Helga stated wistfully as she crumbled the remnants into dust and Vanished the ashes.

"Feel free but when you're done I'd appreciate it if you put him back together so that I can flay him myself." Iris groused from the flat of her back as she imagined paying back the old man for everything he had put her through in this lifetime, manipulating was his game but putting her under his thumb with the Ring had crossed a line. A man who could take away someone's free will was not someone she could ever put her trust in, he might have the moral high ground in this war with Grindelwald but she would never be one of his followers.

It took a few more minutes before Iris had regained the constitution to stand under her own power, her muscles screaming at her to stop and rest and leave them be; but she could not accommodate the fatigue that held her. Instead she reached for her magic and it rushed to accommodate her will, shoring her weary body and clearing her mind of the fingers of pain and exhaustion.

Professor Riddle had cautioned her against using her magic like this, it could carry her far and keep her fresh when she was ready to collapse but the body had its limits; push too hard and you'd be bedridden for a week rather than a day as your muscles recovered from being torn to shreds and your body metabolized itself to keep it going.

Necessity demanded it though and she could not take rest yet, she had to get Neville out of her and into the hands of someone who could care for him and help him heal the mental and emotional wounds that he was no doubt fraught with. Then she could get to Tom and deliver her report while the account was fresh in her mind and then she could give in to exhaustion and sleep.

As Iris crossed the length of the chamber to Neville, the chimera gathered Grindelwald's bracelet and bore it further into the Vault so that Helga might dispose of it, whatever means she was going to use; Iris hoped the piece of soul could feel pain before it was destroyed.

The boy flinched at her touch and tried to recoil away from her, "Shh Neville, be calm; it's me, Iris. I've come to take you back to the castle. You're safe now." She reassured him and smiled down at him comfortingly as the boy opened his eyes for himself and saw it was her, her eyes vibrant and clear and not under the thrall of Grindelwald.

He choked back a sob of relief at that and nodded his head, she helped him to his feet and steadied him as he got used to having weight and a body again. His arm was thrown about her shoulder and hers was braced across the small of his back as though they were long time comrades and not just housemates. Memories of all the vile things he had done this year were running through his head, the way he had behaved to his friends and treated Ginny sickened him; but how much of it had been him and how much of it had been the bracelet he wondered.

When she had the boy steady at last Helga met them and held out a vial to Iris, "The antivenin to the chimera's toxin, administer three drops to each victim and three drops only; Madam Pomfrey will be able to heal them after that." The Founder closed her eyes for a moment and craned her head as though hearing some far off sound before she returned her attention to the girl, "The messages on the walls are gone now, before long the Trial will seem a distant memory to those unaffected by it but I trust you will not forget what happened here or the allies that you have. You know how to return should you ever need a place to rest away from the world but for now I can see that you have duties to attend to.

"Take care of yourself milady, much rests on your shoulders but you have friends to help bear the load; never forget that." Helga leaned forward and placed a kiss on Iris brow and then there was a moment of weightlessness before a familiar hook seized her navel and dragged her and Neville out of the Vault.

When at last the world stopped spinning, Iris found that she and Neville had been deposited at the foot of the stairs to the Dungeons.

With a heavy sigh, she mounted the first step but found that Neville did not move with her, he stood rooted to the floor and looked at her with sad and haunted eyes. "I can't face them Iris, I've hurt so many people, how can I ever make up for all the damage I've caused?" the brown haired boy asked as real pain and grief marred his face, his eyes full of unshed tears.

"Neville, what happened wasn't your fault; you were used, even as I was. Your friends, your real friends, will accept that and forgive you without hesitation. Ron and Ginny and Lavender, trust in them and you'll find they'll stay true." Iris said as she comforted the boy, letting him rest his head on her shoulder and cry his tears. She smoothed back his hair and murmured comforting words as his body shook with sobs.

A tear fell down her cheek as well and was lost in the boy's hair as she mourned the loss of his innocence. It seemed that Neville would not be allowed to remain a child much as she had been forbidden that leisure, he would have to grow up quickly to face the threats and plots that would spring up around him and decide for himself what it was that he was going to fight for.

She only prayed that he would not choose to fight against her.

* * *

><p><strong>Lir Castle, Scarlett Point, Isle of Man <strong>

Albus stood over the cauldron that had slowly turned white and viscous after the introduction of Lockhart's body to the potion. In one hand he held a lock of blonde hair, brittle and stiff from age, in the other he held a silver dagger; its edge glittered in the light with a preternatural sharpness. He used the faintest pressure to draw its edge against the billowy sleeve of his robe, the fabric parting with barely a whisper to reveal the pale and mottled flesh of an old man. His skin was thinner now than it had been in his youth, he thought to himself, likely to bleed more than expected.

A vial of light blue liquid rose from a table at the far end of the chamber and floated over to hang in the air just within arm's reach, prepared in advance for just this occasion. He held the blonde strands over the potion and let them fall, hitting the surface before being drawn down into the depths.

Then he began, using the silver blade he made small, precise cuts; carving runes into his arm as he chanted in Latin. Each drop of blood that fell from his arm dripped into the cauldron below and tinged the potion pink. Slowly the potion began to spin within the cauldron, mixing the blood into itself as it changed; becoming thicker and contracting open itself until the very last rune was cut.

Centered over the veins at his wrist, the blood ran quickly into the cauldron as he continued to chant in Latin, "Argillae accurare, anima adolere, cognatio copula aedifico. Adsurrectum! Ancillorari ego!"

He bellowed the final verse of the chant and watched as the pink concoction drew in on itself, shaping itself in the center of the cauldron until it resembled the shape of a man. It continued to refine itself, an invisible sculptor working clay as arms and hands were defined; legs and feet, torso, throat, head.

Dumbledore watched in awe as before his eyes a young woman came into being; she was beautiful with a face that bespoke kindness, framed by a long silvery blonde hair. She was everything he had hoped she would be as she deftly climbed out of the cauldron with a serene grace, full of confidence and untroubled by the eyes of an old man on her bare skin.

She plucked the vial out of the air as she approached her creator, giving the man a sweet smile; "Albus, you look like you've seen a ghost. Come dear brother, drink your potion before you bleed to death and then what kind of reunion would this be if I would have to bury you."

Her words stirred him to take the vial from her and swallow it contents, the soothing potion's restorative effects went by unnoticed as he drew the woman into a fierce hug. "Ariana!" he breathed her name as though it were a prayer as he breathed in the scent of lilacs, he had forgotten how her hair had always smelled of lilacs.

"Yes, Albus; it's me. But if you keep squeezing me like that, you're going to smother me." She said with a giggle though she hugged him just as fiercely as he did her, pulling back from each other they shared a long gaze at one another. Tears fell from Albus's eyes and ran down into his beard as he looked upon the young woman that stood before him, until it suddenly occurred to him that she was stark naked and with a furious blush he stripped off his own robes and used them to cover his sister's shoulders.

Ariana giggled as Albus looked away while she wrapped the robes tightly around herself, tearing a few strips from the split sleeve she made a makeshift belt to tie the robe closed around her waist though it only just managed to cover her decently. "We'll have to acquire some fresh clothing Albus, this simply won't do. Though I suppose it matters little for the moment, you'll have to find me a suitable wardrobe while I take care of our little problem."

"Of course, it was silly of me to have forgotten so. Alas, it's the plight of an old man; my thoughts are not as clear as they used to be." He said as Ariana positioned her arm on his; arms interlocked, her hand resting on the back of his forearm in the traditional position for a younger sibling being escorted by the elder.

He looked fondly at her and patted her hand with his free hand as he escorted her from the chamber and through the halls of the castle as they made amiable small talk, nothing would have looked amiss; just a pair of old friends catching up after not seeing each other for some time.

Had Aberforth been present he would undoubtedly be horrified to see his much beloved little sister, dead for a century suddenly walking the world as a nubile twenty-something year old; whole and unbroken as her chime-like laugh filled the halls of the old keep built amid the rolling waves off the coast of the Isle of Man.

"This situation with Lockhart it going to prove troublesome, I can take his place and eliminate the evidence but we'll need to make that as brief a sojourn as possible. He's too narcissistic to commit suicide before the trial; he'll believe until the very end that he won't be convicted until the sentenced is passed. But suicide after imprisonment is very likely, he'd rather be dead than rot there." Ariana spoke with intimate knowledge of Lockhart, as though she had known the man for years and at least that was partly true; he had been an instrumental ingredient in her resurrection after all.

"Creating the illusion of his suicide will take me some time but such is the price we pay for perfection. As for dealing with Iris, I'll need to you to run that little operation; do you foresee any problems?" Dumbledore asked as they stepped into the drawing room that he reserved for his esteemed guests.

The room was small but cozy, at the far end of the room was a fireplace that crackled merrily and set before it were two small sofas; each carved from beech and inlayed with scenes of wildlife. Above the fireplace on a wooden tray was an assortment of crystal decanters and glasses.

As Ariana took a seat on one of the sofas, Albus picked one of the bottles and poured a generous dose of port into a pair of copitas. He handed her a glass and moved to sit beside her as she took a sip of the fortified wine.

"Only with the girl herself, she will not trust easily; the cover identity you've acquired for me will bear whatever scrutiny can be thrown at it and with the assistance of our… friend, I believe we can accomplish our goal." Ariana said after mulling over the question for a few moments more as she savored the taste of the tawny port.

"Very good, I'm afraid we cannot tarry much longer Ariana, Gilderoy will be expected to return this evening. You have quite the performance ahead of you." Dumbledore said with a touch of regret in his old voice.

"Don't fret, you've been patient enough to wait a century to see me; what are a few more weeks next to that?" Ariana said with a wink as she tipped her glass back and swallowed the remainder of her glass, the sweet alcohol burning down her gullet much as the smoke had flowed through Lockhart. His sacrifice had been her gain, and she was quite satisfied that an evil man had been done away with to support the Greater Good.

Standing, she set her empty glass on the mantle and closed her eyes; her brow furrowing in concentration as her form shifted and moved until it was Gilderoy Lockhart standing before the fireplace. His blond head turned to look at Dumbledore and gave the man a conspiratorial wink before his form was blinked out of sight with naught but the faintest of pops.

Dumbledore smiled to himself approvingly, his plans were moving swiftly into action now; it wouldn't take very long at all to see things come to fruition. With Ariana's assistance he was able to be in two playing at once now, he could focus on Hogwarts and the demands of the school while she orchestrated and carried out his manipulations.

It had taken a stroke of genius and a small fortune to implement but the creation of a homunculus was not something to be looked down upon even if it was forbidden magic. It had taken months of preparation and ultimately it had required the sacrifice of a life so that the trapped soul could power the creation, but Lockhart was a man of no consequence. A man about to be sentenced to Azkaban had no future worth living and now that his soul was being used for the real pursuit of goodness, he would be redeemed of his sins.

"I've done you a favor dear boy, though you would have struck out at me in desperation of your impending doom; I will deliver unto you salvation. Cheers, to you." Dumbledore toasted the empty room with his glass of port and drained the contents with sigh of fulfillment.

Reveling in the afterglow of his victory, the warlock almost failed to notice the subtle change of the magic in the room; sitting on the edge of the sofa he tensed and probed around him for the source of the disturbance. There was nothing in the room with him so he pushed his senses further outward until he was sensing everything in the castle.

Nothing stirred save for a nest of rats in the cellar, so what then was he feeling? What had changed?

His answer came a moment later as a stab of pain ignited his senses; he barely had time to register what had happened as he burst from the room cradling his injured hand to his chest. She had broken the Ring! How had she mustered the strength to do so?

The thoughts crashed through Dumbledore's mind as he raced to his potion chamber, barely able to remember where he stored his potions or the bowl he kept specifically for dealing with laboratory accidents. Flinging open the door, he stumbled into the room in a haze of pain as he sought a silver bowl, ensorcelled to keep its contents icy cold. There! Along the wall!

He could hardly lift his hand to soak it he was in such pain but he fought and slipped his hand beneath the frigid water and gasped at the sudden lance of agony that drove black spots into his vision. He held tightly to consciousness, if he succumbed now his hand might be unsalvageable.

Beneath the sloshing water of the bowl he knew exactly what had happened to his hand, Iris had managed to destroy the binds of the Ring of Obedience the thread that had connected her to his will snapped.

When such powerful magic was destroyed with that ferocity the backlash had to go somewhere and in this case the thread had snapped back to the Ring, he had sensed it immediately when it was destroyed but so distant was she and so unlikely the possibility that he had not even considered it.

The magic had returned to the Ring and caused the gold to burst; molten ore ran along the lengths of his fingers and palm, burning flesh and the muscles beneath in a matter of seconds. Gingerly he drew his wand with his left hand and with great care he began extricating the remains from the flesh that it had fused to and cauterized, the work was slow and meticulous and excruciatingly painful.

He had needed to empty and refill the bowl several times before he was finished as the water kept being clouded with blood as he cut away at his own flesh to remove some of the accursed metal. At the end, his hand was mangled and bloody; too raw to use without incredible pain and risking even more damage.

He muttered oaths and blasphemes to himself as he cursed the girl who had done this to him while he opened cabinet doors in search of healing elixirs to mend himself and quiet the pain in his appendage. He would have to think of some suitable punishment for the girl for this offense, meddling in things beyond her ability to comprehend just to spite him.

A pull on his mind alerted him to another disturbance this evening that he had little desire to attend to at the moment though he had even less choice as he recognized the signature of his caller this time.

He loosed an exasperated breath as he set to end this tomfoolery, he needed to be back in Hogwarts; the suspension had allowed him time to progress his timetable somewhat but he needed to be able to see what was going on from his proper seat.

With a clear mind, he willed himself to Apparate into his scrying chamber rather than run through his own blasted castle. Damn that girl for making him look the fool in his own keep! Calming himself, he stepped to the mirror that he had enchanted for occasions such as these; waving his hand over the silvered glass, a ripple spread across the surface that blurred his reflection and allowed James's reflection to come into clarity.

"I apologize for disturbing you so late this evening Headmaster but I had news that simply could not wait. It seems this evening there was another attack within Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom was abducted from the castle and taken to the Vault of Iudicium."

James's words struck Dumbledore like a blow, 'How could this have been to allowed to happen? So long as I was there it was relegated to attacks but to be so bold as to take a child and Neville at that!' He was furious, they had suspended him and now this had happened; if any harm came to that boy before due time then everything would be ruined.

"By my daughter's account, she was guided to the chamber by an unknown force and came into contact with the Judge; a creation that the Founder Helga Hufflepuff left to safeguard the school from the rise of Dark Lords that would destroy the vision of the future that the Founders had created. It seems that the magic of the Trial had been hi-jacked; you are correct Headmaster, agents of Grindelwald remain.

"By her own testimony she battled against a man who claimed to be Gellert Grindelwald, she described him as a youth in his twenties with flaxen hair and a mouth that seemed too big for his face."

"What color were his eyes?" Dumbledore asked, there was only one positive way to know if the girl had actually seen the man.

"Dark blue, if I remember correctly she used the word ultramarine; but then I suspect she would know colors better than I. She has her mother's knack for potions." James replied somewhat puzzled but nevertheless willing to tell what he knew.

Would the blows not cease? The girl had seen Grindelwald again!? This time in the flesh and having taken control of the Trial, it seemed that he was more right than even James knew.

"Yes, that is in correlation to the Dark Teacher in his youth; it seems that my suspicions have been confirmed. Prior to his defeat at the hands of young Neville, I postulated that he had created at least one Horcrux to maintain his grasp on life should I ever kill him in conflict. If an agent of the Knights had managed to plant it on a student, especially a young one who might have had a certain sentimentality regarding the object than they would have been ripe for possession." Dumbledore spoke into the pause that James had allowed him so that he could process the information and come to his deductions.

"It would seem so, Iris said that she saw a bracelet on Neville; made from red gold. I remember seeing such bracelets worn by Grindelwald's lieutenants during the war, by the boy's own account it was gifted to him by Ginny Weasley; she claims not to know who it came from, just that it was in her cauldron when she returned from Diagon Alley last summer." James had a look on his face that said that he didn't quite believe the girl's tale but then he hadn't questioned the girl himself, as an Auror he wouldn't believe anything he hadn't extracted from an interrogation personally.

"The Weasley family has long been in service of the cause of Light, if she was in contact with anyone of Dark allegiance she would have known intuitively and reported it to her parents. We can rule her out as having any active participation in this as anything other than an unwitting courier." Dumbledore spoke with a frank certainty, Molly and Arthur were both members of the Order and he had seen to it that their children were all baptized under the midsummer sun in accordance with the ancient traditions.

"Understood Headmaster, it seems that Iris was able to stun the man; a combination of a blinding and deafening charm as I taught her to do and in the confusion the man threw a spell that must have broken whatever magic he had used to compel the ritual because the Judge was the one who ended the fight.

"Apparently, it sealed him back into the bracelet and destroyed it but the resulting backlash of the bracelet's destruction from whatever ritual the Judge used was enough to knock her unconscious. When she woke, both she and Neville were back in the dungeons of the castle and they had some kind of antidote to restore the injured to health though I'm afraid Liatris will bear the scars of wounds for the rest of her life." James finished his report with a soft lamentation to his voice but while Dumbledore noted it he didn't do anything besides sigh with a feigned sympathy for the girl.

He was far more interested in considering the events of this night; he knew James would not tarry to deliver such news to him so this must have all occurred within the last few hours. It fit the timeframe of when the Ring broke, so it wasn't the girl who destroyed it but more likely the destruction of the bracelet that had resulted in the severing of the bond. And she had gone to the aid of Neville as she had been bidden to do so she had not resisted the Ring's standing command.

"That is why we must be diligent in out fight against the forces of Darkness, Liatris will bear the scars of her encounter as an innocent hurt but when we eradicate such forces from the shore of Britain then no other child will ever have to. How fare Iris and Neville?" He would not rest easy until he knew that both the Boy Who Lived and his fated weapon were both safe.

"Iris suffers from magical exhaustion and rests now in the Hospital Wing. Neville is physically fine though the emotional trauma of being possessed by the Horcrux for so long will require a good deal of counseling." James replied, taking comfort in the man's sincerity and the concern he showed for his children.

Counseling, an intriguing implication, yes that would work nicely to accommodate his future plans and he had just the person for the job. Things were moving in his favor, save for his current predicament.

"James, I could have prevented this! Grindelwald would not have dared to make a move like this had I been there, he had been reduced to ambushing children before I was removed. While Tom is certainly a capable Deputy Headmaster, Grindelwald does not fear him as he fears me; I am the most assured way of keeping the students of Hogwarts safe!" Albus was probing here, not directly asking the question about his suspension but it would draw the response he wanted without sounding like a juvenile.

"I know and I'm in complete agreement with you Headmaster, it's clear that the lull between strikes while Professor Riddle was Acting Headmaster was simply the eye of the storm. I've already contacted the board of governors as has Frank and countless more parents. You'll be reinstated by the morning I suspect though I tell you now that Lily is none too happy about it.

"She thinks that you've gotten too old to protect the children, when she learns that it was a Horcrux; a piece of Grindelwald himself, I doubt she'll take it lightly. I think she means to take a place among the governors; Mr. O'Connor is ready to step down and he'd be more than happy to see her take his seat." James informed him with a wince, it was clear that he disliked seeing his wife and mentor at odds but the very fact that he was speaking to Dumbledore now was an indication of just how deep his loyalty ran.

"Not to worry James, let her take governorship; I'd be glad to see her on the board. You can assure her she has my full blessing and that I have plans to incorporate further defenses over the summer, by the time the students return the only thing less assailable then Hogwarts will be the moon." That was a promise he ended to keep as well, it would take some moving of the wards but by the time he was done there wouldn't be a soul in the world who could get into the castle that he didn't want.

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><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland<strong>

"So what do you see?" Tom asked as he watched Iris peering into a mirror, her eyes aglow once more as she saw a world beyond anything he could imagine. He envied her in that regard, the Sight was a prized gift among the Lords and Ladies of magic; the ability to see the truth of all things was a powerful asset.

"Nothing that shouldn't be there thankfully, I'm glad my skin is mine alone once more. Some minor changes in the channels of my hands but that's to be expected with the amount of magic I was throwing around last night. And from what Madam Pomfrey says I'm the fastest out of everyone she has treated to recover from magical exhaustion." Iris replied as she turned away from the mirror, her Sight turned on Riddle for a moment before the fire dimmed from her eyes.

He wondered what she saw when she looked at him but he wasn't about to ask her that, his pride wouldn't let him. But her gaze wasn't the only one that saw things; he could see something had changed with her, the way she stood was more relaxed and there wasn't that hunted look about her that she had when a thought crossed her mind that she wasn't sure was really her own.

More than that it was the way she carried herself, she had never lack for confidence before but now that she had shaken free of her demons it was like she had been given a new lease on life. Her eyes were fiercer now, shoulders just a tad straighter, and her magic…

He didn't think anyone who didn't know what it was would simply take it as an innate magnetism of hers but her magic was swirling about her like a cloak; stronger now than he remembered it being. He could only imagine what she would be capable of in a duel at the moment; she was probably on a completely different level than she had been just a few days ago.

"Right then, I expect you'll be wanted at the End of Year Feast; Dumbledore's going to extol the virtues of Gryffindor and grant you the House Cup for extraordinary bravery in the face of adversity, service to a higher calling, etcetera, etcetra." Riddle said as he waved his hand flippantly, Dumbledore could play his games but what mattered was that Iris had passed through the trial alive and whole.

"I couldn't care less, there's an evil wizard out there looking to recruit me to subjugate Muggles and take down his nemesis. The same nemesis is always trying to get me to do something but rather than just explaining his position, he prefers to manipulate and push his agenda like he were a god.

"I'm not going to help either of them, I won't help Dumbledore kill our culture to see a peaceful integration of Muggleborns into our world; and I'm not going to help Grindelwald enslave the Muggles. I'll stand against the both of them and anyone else that seeks to drag the world down into bloody chaos." Iris's voice was steel and her resolve adamant as she spoke.

And just like that Tom saw what had happened to Iris that had made her seem so different then he remembered, she had found purpose. 'The visionary was the most dangerous force on the planet' Grindelwald was fond of saying, it seemed that his efforts to make her see his had inspired a rather different view.

"I suspect that you will have to before this is all over but for now go to the feast and eat your fill; time enough for fighting in the future." Tom advised as he motioned to the door of his private suites.

Together they slipped out into the dungeons and walked in companionable silence towards the increasing din of the gathered school that was settled in the Great Hall, where just a week previously there had been an invitation to Iris written over the doors. It would please Draco to know that things had changed tremendously in such a short period of time, already there were rumors of impending changes coming to Hogwarts before the next year began.

Some of the parents had even demanded that the Vault be found and destroyed to prevent what had happened this year ever occur again but while they had been invited to try, none of them had managed to find it and Iris insisted that she had only managed to find it because she had been guided by an unknown force.

Dumbledore had put forward that Iris's sensitivity to magic had been the cause she had sensed Neville in danger and followed. No one seemed able to come up with a better alternative and so they accepted the Headmaster's words without argument.

But Iris had noticed the absence of a certain gold ring on his finger and how gingerly he was treating the hand on which it had worn; she could only imagine what had happened when his magic had been destroyed but she was certainly pleased that it had seemed to be quite painful.

Walking into the Great Hall she could see it was decorated in tapestries of red and gold signifying her House's taking of the Cup without any further need to add last minute points; the majority of the school seemed while not happy at least content of that fact after the stories had been passed of what had happened in the Vault as Iris freed Neville from the Judge.

Even the Slytherins had been quietly impressed with the tale and had looked at Iris with a certain respect, she was certain it would fade by the time Quidditch started again next year but that was for then. For now, she took some satisfaction as Pansy and her gang stared at her cautiously as she walked to her table and took her seat between Hermione and Liatris.

Tom walked up to the staff table and took his seat, to the right of Dumbledore's throne between the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. He missed being the occupant of that chair but he had sat it well for the last few weeks and no one could dispute that; it would only be a matter of time then before it was his once again. Once Albus had been disposed of.

The amusement that thought gave him must have uncharacteristically shown on his face since McGonagall took the time to say to him, "Good news Tom? You look rather pleased."

"I suppose you could say that Minerva," Riddle said as he looked at her with a pleasant smile on his face; the woman flushed somewhat at the expression on Riddle's face. After all she was old, not dead and the Defense Professor through some magic had not appeared to age a day past thirty and he was still quite an attractive man, "I've been informed that my teaching assistant next year will not be an utter idiot who I'll be tempted to strangle."

Before the Animagus could make a response to that Dumbledore stood, regally dressed as always and launched into his end of year speech. As expected it was a heartwarming commentary on the strengths of Gryffindor qualities that Tom couldn't bother to pay any attention to as he considered the future.

His plan to get Iris out from underneath Dumbledore's thumb had worked exactly as planned; the Headmaster had lost his control of her and been burned for trying to. Grindelwald had been weakened, his Horcrux destroyed by the Judge and Iris' refusal to join his cause.

Now he just had to train her, mold her, and when he returned to make his bid on the British Isles she would join his cause; tearing down Dumbledore and his Order and Grindelwald with his Knights. With her as his ally there would be no need to destroy the Muggles, no army they assembled would be enough to overthrow them; the world would tremble before Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

He had a vision too, a world where magic would never need to be hidden. He would sit a throne with Iris beside him and the heads of Dumbledore and Grindelwald raised on pikes for the world to see. He would be the most powerful Lord in the world and his rule would be eternal.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Hey everyone, sorry for the delay in updating the story; I've been busy with school as I'm moving into my final semesters and really want to get the best grades possible before I graduate.

I had this chapter outlined back in October of last year and I've been working on it steadily as the months have gone by. To date it's the longest chapter I've written, in excess of 40 pages. I invite new readers and longtime followers alike to leave a review; critiques, comments and questions are all appreciated. If you have a question and want to send me a pm, feel free; I enjoy corresponding with my readers.

**Next Chapter: **_Interlude 2 _


	19. Interlude II

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N:** Book 2 has drawn closed but so begins the journey of book 3, I look forward to the continuation of this project and hope everyone coming along for the ride do to. Cheers.

**Behind the Veil**

By StycianLeo

**Interlude II**

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><p>"<strong>Lockhart Pleads Guilty, Sentenced to Azkaban"<strong>

**By: Sarah Black**

In a surprise turnabout yesterday Gilderoy Lockhart, acclaimed author and assistant professor at Hogwarts, plead guilty to charges of criminal misconduct, assault, and the unauthorized use of memory charms. Over the last few months allegations raised by esteemed Auror James Potter, of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, have led to formal hearings of his findings where he provided the Wizengamot tangible evidence that Gilderoy Lockhart was incapable of accomplishing the feats in his book, was not present at the time of the events he described, and had modified the memories of wizards and witches who were subsequently transferred to St. Mungo's Hospital presenting in sudden and acute cases of dementia.

After extensive work by St. Mungo's staff under the direction of Chief Surgeon Eduard Greengrass, several of these patients were cured of their conditions; found to be the results of powerful memory charms. During the proceedings a number of these victims gave testimony regarding the nature of the memory charms and the wizard who cast them.

The Daily Prophet asked if these victims had anything to say regarding the case but all neglected to comment, citing that they were bound by the Ministry not to reveal any information regarding the then ongoing investigation. After yesterday, the victims have come forward to share their stories.

Noopur Sen, formerly of the Ministry of Magic's Beast Divison and respected magizoologist, claims that the book "Year with the Yeti" was based off of her experiences in Nepal and Tibet where she studied the creatures for approximately ten months. Her findings uncovered behavioral and magical facets of the reclusive creatures that was unknown before the release of Mr. Lockhart's book. Her discoveries would have put her beside the late Newton 'Newt' Scamander as one of the forefront researchers of magical creatures.

Armenian native Abel Laloian also came forward to contest the veracity of Mr. Lockhart's Wandering with Werewolves, he states, "Gilderoy Lockhart asked me for an interview regarding the incident in the Vardens Range, we had received reports of a pack of werewolves in the area terrorizing the populace of a remote wizarding community. I had been sent to investigate the situation and found myself trapped in the village as Anti-Apparition jinx was placed over the village.

"I defended the village for a week against the werewolves, an anarchistic pack that had been trying to overrun the village to establish a sanctuary. When reinforcements arrived, we drove them [the werewolves] back into the mountains. Those of us involved were sworn to secrecy regarding the matter for the safety of all those involved, when the book was published the Armenian Ministry could not file an injunction against the book without revealing classified information that thankfully Lockhart never obtained."

Needless to say, the Wizengamot ruled that there was sufficient evidence to begin a formal trial against Mr. Lockhart and ordered a warrant for his arrest. When presented before the Wizengamot he declined to have his attorneys summoned and entered his plea of guilty to all charges.

His sentencing is still being negotiated by his retained attorney, Demetrius Bulstrode a former member of the DMLE who was released from duty following allegations of corruption within the administration of Cornelius Fudge, however it is believed that due to the heinous of his crimes; which include the assault of a minor, he could face over fifty years of imprisonment in Azkaban.

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><p><strong>Azkaban Prison, Somewhere in the North Sea<strong>

Dank stone walls covered in a film of salt and the relentless crashing of waves was enough to drive anyone mad. Frigid air from the Arctic Circle blasted though the barred slits that were counted as windows in the miserable wizard prison, carrying with it the spray of the sea that left skin constantly chill and damp. Cloth did not last long in this place, kept in the dark and never really dry it rotted through and was barely replaced.

Those were just the living conditions, the food was barely fit for consumption; hard stale bread that had the taste of weevils that had called the grain home, goulash made from meat that was just beginning to rot. The fare was made edible only by the heartiness of wizard anatomy; the magic that flowed through them fortified them, made them resistant to disease and infection but there was only so much it could do.

A few cells were vacant each day, the previous occupant having most commonly died in their sleep; their hearts giving out amidst the nightmares that ravaged them. Not all went out quite so peacefully, some people just couldn't take it and so they dashed their skulls against the walls.

More were lost to the dementors, the evil cloaked creatures that floated down the corridors; devouring what little happiness might exist in a place like Azkaban. Where witch and wizard alike had voices scarred from screaming their woes until their throats were bloody, tormented by the demons of their thoughts. The embarrassing moment in childhood like a sentence spoken that haunted years later for its impropriety; or words spoken crossly to a loved one who perished without hearing an apology.

Such were relatively benign mistakes and are forgotten, aroused from time to time by a turn of phrase or recounting a story of days long passed. Dementors had the effect of leaving one with naught but else to think of, drawing these misdemeanors from the recesses of the mind and twisting them until they seem unredeemable sins.

For those who had been sentenced to Azkaban for truly horrific crimes, manslaughter, rape, torture, murder; such offenders were like to find themselves swallowing their tongues or gouging out their eyes to stop the visions from appearing. It didn't help they simply died blind and tormented rather than just tormented.

It is said that those who managed to survive Azkaban are either innocents or monsters. This is false, the innocent don't last at all in Azkaban; the cruelty of the prison drove them mad and they became the beasts they were accused of being.

The only survivors of Azkaban were the monsters, those who felt no remorse for their crimes and could not be penitent. For these souls Azkaban was a forge, it beat home what they were and changed them, shaped them into terrible beings, wicked beings.

It was something Ariana was counting on as she walked through the dimly lit corridors of the prison, the only illumination coming from wrought iron chandeliers with stubs of candles. She was flanked on both sides by stone and steel bars and the gaunt faces of those who had been interned within the citadel for the safety of the wizarding (and muggle) world.

The warden himself had taken it upon himself to escort her, it was probably some twisted form of pleasure he derived from the celebrity of his prisoner. It had been quite the spectacle when she had arrived; the guards of Azkaban had assembled in barren hall to see the Aurors transfer custody of her or rather of Gilderoy Lockhart, swaddled in chains and leg irons.

All the while the warden had been talking, laying down the 'law' of the prison; three meals a day, no visitors but family and attorney though she was unlike to see either, and she was to remain in her cell until such a day came as she was released or more plausibly dead.

If only he knew what lay in store for him, he would probably have killed her now if he had known how; though from the look of his slicked back hair and jowly face he was more like to stab himself with his wand then his captive. He positively oozed sinecure and cronyism; just another pure-blood wizard who had bribed the Minister for an endorsement to get a cushy job and a taste of authority.

She would only be too pleased when her brother's plans came to fruition, they would reset the balance of things; prejudice over blood purity would perish, Muggleborns would be accepted into their world and help break down the barriers, the old traditions could be forgotten and put to rest as needless remnants of the past that served only to sully the greater tomorrow.

Men like this arrogant ponce would have no place in that world, unfit for their positions they would be replaced by those of merit and left to fade into the dark if they had no other capacity besides the warming of chairs.

It would be a world where Darkness had no claim but to get there would demand sacrifice and the great leadership. The leadership that could only be derived from those who had been tried by and overcame great adversity, shaped by the wisdom and experience of enlightened mentors, and aided by true friends. Neville had to become such a leader and it was her task to see that he filled the rule for the future of their world.

So as she moved among the cells she listened to him as he explained that she would remain on the lower level floors, the minimum security section away from all of the nasty Death Eaters and real criminals who were left to their lofty perches with only Dementors for company.

Striding behind the warden, he never saw the slight smile that formed on Lockhart's lips as he said, "Thanks be for the small bleesings, who knows what would have happened had I been locked away with all the real monsters."

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><p>For three weeks she sat in her cell, pretending to be Lockhart; eating the slop that passed for food and growing increasingly bored as time trickled past with nothing to do but stare out at the churning sea and listen to the waves and the madmen yelling at them. On occasion a guard came to see her and inquire into the wellbeing of their celebrity prisoner but they soon grew bored of it as they saw that he was just as human as any of the other prisoners and for all that he had a brilliant smile it mattered little behind bars.<p>

The dementors passed through occasionally on these lower levels just to ensure that the prisoners were the right kind of miserable though they had taken to lingering at her cell door. They peered at her from beneath the cowls of their spectral cloaks, she could feel their stares on her skin as they sucked at the air and made their awful rattling sounds as though something was strangling the life from them.

The air always became icy cold but while she could sense that she never really felt it, in their presence memories rose to her mind of an unstable girl with blonde hair and fair skin; of how she killed her mother in a fit of uncontrolled magic, of being beaten and attacked by a group of boys, of seeing her father taken from the house by Aurors, and of a terrible duel that ended with a sudden pressure on her chest.

But these were memories from a time long past and of a different person, she could appreciate them for what they were; sad memories but she was not choked with despair nor tortured by it.

It seemed that she interested the dementors as they began to linger longer and then in pairs and then in triplicate; each time the memories came along with the chill but she could only stare back at them with her bored gaze as it never made any difference to her save for the way that the other inmates began to moan and scream as they were dragged through pits of their own personal hells.

Then having taken their fill from those others they retreated back up to the upper reaches of the prison. It was the routine of her day until one day the warden passed through the corridor and without a word he slipped a copy of the Daily Prophet into her cell and tucked amidst the pages was letter with a familiar script, elegant and spidery and down with such precision that it must have been written with a phoenix feather quill.

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><p><strong>Prison Riot in Azkaban, Inmates unaccounted for<strong>

**By: Sarah Black**

Preliminary statements released by the Ministry of Magic are saying that at approximately three o'clock this morning a riot broke out when one of the prison's guards attempted to subdue an inmate from committing suicide. Prison officials believe that the inmate in question, Gilderoy Lockhart, feigned his attempt to take his own life to draw the guard into the cell where he proceeded to overwhelm the deputy and take his wand.

Mr. Lockhart, as we know was sentenced to forty years of imprisonment in Azkaban for his crimes just last month, proceeded to make an attempt at escape but was cut off by responding guards and dementors. It is believed that seeing himself cut off from escape, Mr. Lockhart retreating to the upper levels of the prison where the most dangerous criminals are kept including Death Eaters.

Reports suggest that Lockhart set these prisoners free in an attempt to overwhelm the guards and make his escape but that the quick response of the dementors and Aurors summoned by the prison warden quelled the riot but were unable to prevent the loss of life of several of the inmates.

Officials have refused to comment on who the deceased are but it is believed that Mr. Lockhart was among those killed.

More distressing is the concern that in the mayhem some of the inmates have managed to escape. One prison guard who has chosen to remain anonymous has provided the Daily Prophet with a statement urging wizards to remain cautious in the coming days as he believes that some of You-Know-Who's followers have been unaccounted for since the Riot.

Prison officials again were unwilling to comment as to the veracity of this reports but have claimed that due to the nature of the riot it is as of yet too early to determine who was killed and whether or not there are any prisoners who are missing. They reaffirm that Azkaban is totally secure, if any of the inmates are found to be missing it is most likely that they are simply hiding within the prison.

Continued on page 4.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So we now have set in motion the principle actors of Book 3 and a fun little teaser of things to come. I hope you are all looking forward to what I've got cooked up for our heroine and her merry band.

The next chapter should come out later today or tomorrow depending on how quickly I finish a project for class. Cheers!

**Next Chapter: **_New Beginnings _


	20. Chapter XVII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **You guys are freaking awesome! Your kind words in your reviews never cease to put me in a good mood and inspire me to write out these chapters. Truly I would not have made it this far without your support.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XVII**

**Ministry of Magic, London, England**

"Dammit Cornelius, I've told you a hundred times if I've told you once! Azkaban should not be run by a political appointee but by the DMLE; we're the ones who catch those bastards and know how to handle them! You can't stick one of your cronies in there and expect him to know how to run it because he donated a mountain of galleons to your campaign fund!" Frank Longbottom roared at the Minister, pinning the man to his seat with the force of his anger and condemnation.

"Now because of your damned meddling we have not one but four escaped Death Eaters, six dead inmates and two wounded Aurors! I hope you're prepared for this Minister because when the press hears about this - and they will – we'll have panic! The Lestranges were renowned for their cruelty and sadism during the war; half my department has targets on their backs now that they're free."

Frank Longbottom was a cold and ill-tempered man who had devoted his life to the capture and imprisonment of Dark wizards, for more than a decade he had hunted and dueled and taken down Death Eaters. If Mad Eye Moody had filled half the cells of Azkaban then it had been Frank who had filled the rest and more than a few graves along the way.

There had been much talk after the murder of his wife that he would take his son and retire to spend his time looking after what remained of Alice but he hadn't. The day after her burial he had returned to work and he hadn't stopped working since, with a single minded determination he had taken down and dismantled the remnants of the Death Eaters and scattered the Knights of Walpurgis back into the dark places where they hid.

It had been the kind of attitude the Ministry had needed in those years, after the War, and he had performed so well that those above him had given him charge of the Auror office and let him run it without interference. He had gotten things done and in an organization where power was won by general election, low crime and a high conviction rate was key to a lot of votes; they hadn't been daft enough to get in the middle.

Then he had gotten the position of Department Head of the DMLE, the seat that was coveted as the stepping stone from Ministry bureaucrat to Minister; and suddenly he had been cut off and denied every resource he needed to do his job. The Minister feared him and though he had never shown any ambition to take the office from the man it hadn't stopped them chaining his hands so that he could do nothing.

Crime was on the rise again; hags were selling love potions to Muggles, warlocks were out trading cursed talismans and Merlin only knew what the necromancers were up to by desecrating graves and riling up the dead. Fudge's hold on his office was growing tenuous at best and he was increasingly worried about who was plotting to usurp him from within the Ministry.

Frank couldn't stand the politics of his position, when he had taken it he had been under the impression that it would put him in the door to clearing out the sick bastards who perverted his country. Dumbledore had assured him it was the smart move to make; he had even convinced him that marrying Regina was a wise move to make as well, his son would need a mother figure in his life and no one would do a finer job than her. She could even help him make the Wizarding world safe again because her family was so well connected.

Instead he found her socializing at every occasion with ambassadors and dignitaries from all over the world, having tea parties with the ladies of well-placed Ministry officials but not once had she lifted a finger to help him fight off the hands that would bind him.

She told them that his position didn't have enough clout to make the sweeping reforms he needed. She urged him to take the Minister's office, swore that all of her family's influence and money would help him take the chair and give him all the support he would need to get the bills he needed passed. And lately he was beginning to think that if he didn't then he was dooming Britain to a dark future.

Even Hogwarts was no longer safe from the reach of Dark wizards, what had happened to his son had shown him that clearly; and the only he could think was that if he just had more power within the Ministry he could have stopped what had happened.

"Look Frank, I understand that you're not pleased with the situation and that mistakes were made but right now we need to set aside our personal feelings and attend to the business of governance. I'm going to be having a word with the Muggle Minister in a few hours and I need to tell him with complete confidence that we are in pursuit of these fugitives." Cornelius was talking in that slippery way only politicians and children in trouble could manage, acknowledging blame but never seeing themselves at fault.

At least children had the excuse of being young but grown men had no excuse for not taking credit for their failures, "You can tell the bloody Prime Minister that I've got every Auror under my power out there right now and I'll be joining them as soon as I'm finished here but you better get one thing through your skull Cornelius-" He spoke the Minister's name as though it were the worst epithet he could use, "-if one person comes to harm from these escaped prisoners; I'm going to hold you responsible… and then I'm going to burn your house down around you!"

Frank finished off barely above a whisper and it was all the more intimidating for all that he wasn't yelling like some crazed lunatic. When he swept out of the Minister's office his dueling robes flared out behind him like an ominous shadow and Cornelius couldn't help breathe a sigh of relief that the decorated wizard hunter was gone.

The sigh all but choked him as a pair of men detached from the wall that framed his office door, tall and muscular even through their robes, they fixed him with accusatory stares as they followed after their boss.

James Potter and Sirius Black were just as fearsome as Frank Longbottom, decorated Aurors the both of them and heirs each to considerable fortunes, they had not chosen to loiter and sit on their fortunes to play at politics like Lucius did. If they were providing protection for the head of the DMLE… a cold shiver crept up the Minister's back as he realized just how serious this situation was.

Frank led the way through the Ministry's halls, their shoes clicking on the waxed floors matched the quickened pace of the snare drum. Bureaucrats made haste to move out of their way as they sensed the mood of the aurors and their boss; the Ministry was always involved in some crises or other but with the news in the Prophet it wasn't hard to guess what had some of the most dangerous men in the building storming through the halls.

The Auror Office was a madhouse by the time they arrived; maps were spread over tables and held open with inkpots and stacks of reports on possible sightings of fugitives. Men and women were tapping the maps with their wands and leaving different colored motes of light to represent the most credible sightings. At a glance it appeared they had one distinct trail of red flags, starting from Sutherland on the eastern coast of England and traveling south into Leeds where all manners of flags were spread out in every direction.

"What news have we gotten out of Leeds?" Frank asked as he approached the table covered by the map, the group of aurors that were standing around it looking up to look at the speaker before one witch in particular riffled through a stack of reports and yanking it out of the pile.

"The local aurors there are claiming that they've got a definite lead on the fugitives, an old Death Eater safe house saw some traffic. They had thought it was just some local kids at first but when they went to check it out they found signs that whoever was there was looking for the stashed wands that used to be under the floorboards." She handed over the report to her Department Head; Frank scanned the report quickly and handed it over to James.

"If they found that their safe house was trashed then the only thing they can do next is try to make contact with their compatriots. Do we know if any Death Eaters have properties in Leeds?" James asked as he read through the report, long years of working had taught him how to multitask and having two children barely a year apart had helped.

"Convicted, suspected or those claiming to have been under the Imperius?" One of the men responded this time as he held up three different pieces of parchment with names and properties listed on them. "We don't have enough people to keep track of all of them and that's before we consider that whoever they're in contact with could be sympathizers."

"What about wands?" Eyes turned to fix on Sirius thoughtful face, it was a testament to the severity of the situation that for once the auror didn't have a smile on his roguish face or was in the midst of some clever office prank.

"What are you on about Black?" The auror who had been holding the documents was looking at the scion of the Black family with a blank look on his face.

"We've got four escaped Death Eaters, at least one of them had his wand snapped and the others are locked up in the evidence vaults. They're going to need wands if they're planning any attacks so all we need to do is keep an eye on the wand stores; the Ministry already subsidizes them so they have to provide us with the names of those who've purchased them." Sirius said slowly as he addressed the thick necked auror as though he were talking to a particularly daft child.

The man glowered at him through narrowed eyes but snapped to attention as Frank nodded thoughtfully at the idea, "Libby go see Anders in Magical Equipment Control and get us a list of everyone who's bought a wand in the last two weeks with an emphasis on the last three days."

The woman who had spoken earlier saluted as she hurried past them at a brisk pace while to carry out Frank's order while he headed for his office with James and Sirius in tow. He waited for the door to his office to close before falling into his office chair with a sigh, running a hand over his face in weariness.

"You look a bit tired there Frank, maybe you should head home and get some rest. We can hold down the fort while you catch a few hours of sleep." James suggested as he took a seat on the opposite side of the desk, there was some concern in his voice for his boss but the man simply grunted in reply as he shook his head.

"Nah, s'alright; I can sleep next year when we've got a milder problem on our hands." Frank deadpanned as he looked at his top aurors, "You guys look like shit though, go on home, see the missus there'll be plenty of work for you to do when you get back."

The two men had been working nonstop for the last forty-eight hours straight, subsisting off coffee and Pepper-Up potions just to keep themselves operating. When news of the Death Eaters had escaped it had been natural that they take point on the assignment since they were intimately familiar with the escapees.

Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were known Inner Circle members of Voldemort and possibly Grindelwald, no one had quite figured out which of the two Dark wizards had really been in command of the army though seeing as how the Dark creatures had disbanded shortly after Grindelwald's death it was conceivable that it had been he who had drawn them to his army.

The Lestrange brothers had been known for their brutality and loyalty to their leaders, even amongst the Death Eaters they had been some of the more zealous conspirators and had been known to act as enforces within the ranks. As far as they had been able to tell, the brothers had been responsible for keeping the other Death Eaters in check so as not to lose them to Dark magic addiction in the midst of combat but they had also been known to punish those who disobeyed the orders of their leaders.

Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, cousin to Auror Sirius Black, she had been Voldemort's most loyal follower and his most fearsome protégé; by her own admission she had been personally taught by her Lord and was esteemed as his favorite follower, a tale corroborated by other captured Death Eaters. She had been single handedly responsible for the deaths of over a dozen aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix though her actual list of victims was estimated to have been much higher.

Considering their familiarity with the fugitives, having fought against them and been to key to their apprehension following the defeat of Grindelwald, it was no surprise that James and Sirius were put in charge of the manhunt with orders to report directly to Frank. But between the three men there was a more personal reason for the two aurors to have taken charge of the search.

The last escapee, Peter Pettigrew, former member of the Order of the Phoenix and Marauder turned spy for Voldemort. His betrayal had been the greatest weapon the Dark wizards had managed to wield in the war, he gave up so many Order members and safe houses that towards the end of the war it had looked like they would fail against the growing power of their adversaries.

The Order had been falling apart, so few of them remained that by the time that James had gone into hiding with Lily and baby Iris, it had seemed only a matter of time before they were all killed. Plans had been made for the remaining members to flee the country and seek asylum in other countries, taking new identities and simply disappearing.

Dumbledore had insisted on getting the less vulnerable members of the Order to safety first, believing that protected by the Fidelius Charm that the Potters would remain safe until he had extracted the others.

By that time Sirius had convinced them to make Peter the Secret Keeper, since Sirius himself had been a known entity on the battlefield and James's best friend he had seem the obvious candidate. He had decided that he would fight to the end to give the Order the greatest amount of time possible and had feared that if he was captured and tortured it would only be a matter of time before he broke and gave up his friends.

No one would suspect Peter, an ordinary wizard of no great power or ability; he would fly under the radar undetected. It was the reason why he had been assigned to protect the Longbottoms while they were in hiding, no one would expect him to be protecting some of the most valued members of the Order and while a storehouse might have been a nice target, the Death Eaters were winning; why would they target that when there were more important targets?

So when news arrived that Alice was dead and Grindelwald defeated it had come as a shock; because everyone knew that the Longbottoms Secret Keeper had already fled the country and would take her own life long before she revealed their location to anyone. But Peter hadn't destroyed the slip of parchment with the address of the house they were hiding in.

The rat delivered the Longbottoms into the hands of the enemy and the betrayal had broken their hearts and the Marauders set out to hunt down their friend. For days they had pursued him throughout the country until they had cornered him in Bristol. Peter had begged and he had pleaded, insisted the Dark forces had been winning and he hadn't wanted to die; that he had switched allegiances in exchange for their protection when the Dark Lords came to power.

He had never dreamed of betraying his friends, never would he betray the Marauders he swore.

They turned their wands on him, traitor to the Order he was and traitor to the Marauders; in desperation he killed twelve Muggles in his attempt to flee but he never managed it, not when his three former comrades had set their hearts on taking him in. For all his sins, they still could not kill the man; not in revenge for what had been done to Alice and Frank and little baby Neville because once Peter had been as a brother to them.

So they had seen the man given a fair trial, watched as he was pronounced guilty and sentenced to Azkaban to spend the rest of his life, watched them snap his wand and burn it. And then he was forgotten, pushed out of thought and was never to be spoken of again. Peter Pettigrew was dead to them, the man in Azkaban had only held his likeness and name but was not their brother.

Frank didn't once blame them for what happened, never so much as yelled at them for what Peter had done, for selling out his wife to spare his friends and himself. He had only thanked them for tracking him down and making sure he would never breathe free air again.

So as James nodded and slipped out of Frank's office to head home he knew that he was going to see his wife and children again, eat dinner with them and smile as they told him about their day and then he would go to sleep. But gnawing at the back of his mind was the knowledge that he owed his boss and friend a debt that could never be repaired.

Not until the man who had caused Alice's death was Kissed for daring to escape from his fate.

* * *

><p><strong>Riddle House, Little Hangelton, England<strong>

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Tom swore in disbelief as he looked at the Daily Prophet, it had taken the Ministry three days to complete their investigations and release the names of the four prisoners who were still unaccounted for and had not been found hiding away in some broom cupboard of Azkaban.

"Now what kind of language is that to use, dear boy?" Grindelwald's all too familiar voice came from behind him; though his face was new. The last one having rotted to pieces trying to contain the Dark Lord's power, he had deigned to wear the face of a young man, apparently from Zurich who had come to England over his summer holidays to see the sights.

"Appropriate language considering the circumstances, the inmates who escaped during the riot are the Lestranges and Pettigrew!" Tom said as he threw the copy of the wizarding newspaper onto the coffee table in front of the Dark Teacher, rage contorting his handsome face.

"This is excellent news, we've desperate need of a powerbase and there are no followers more loyal than Bellatrix and the Lestranges; even Pettigrew has his uses." Grindelwald sounded almost cheerful about the situation but then the man had never been able to see the bigger picture, always needed someone else to guide him through the grander machinations.

"That was twelve years ago, before they were left to rot in Azkaban under the scrutiny of the dementors. By now they have all surely gone mad and of what use are madmen if they cannot be controlled?" Tom asked rhetorically as he placed his finger to his temples to sooth the coming headache, he had considered the possibility of this scenario since the news of the escape had first emerged but he hadn't really believed that any of them would make it out of the prison.

"Then what do you suggest? We cannot leave them free to roam, if they are as mad as you believe then there is no telling what damage they could wreak. What if they targeted the girl!?" Grindelwald exclaimed with what might have actually been real concern in his voice as he thought about what might become of his precious machinations if anything were to befall his future apprentice.

"What if they don't? What if they instead choose to target the Longbottom child? Our plan last year freed the child from Dumbledore's control but we underestimated the powers of the ritual seeing as how it thwarted us from disposing of the boy! If they go after him it could very well be to our advantage?" Riddle's jet black eyes were beginning to burn crimson as the possibilities ran through his mind.

"You cannot mean to use them! You just said that their madness makes them unpredictable!" Grindelwald looked on as the Dark Lord reared his head and looked out from the aristocratic face, so impassioned was he that Gellert could just begin to make out the faint impression of scales on his pale skin.

"You forget where I am placed! The girl trusts me implicitly and the boy knows me as nothing beyond a teacher; even Dumbledore thinks me tame and leashed! How easy would it be to plant thoughts of heroism in his head to make him look for them while leading them right to the boy?" Voldemort's eyes blazed scarlet now, the cat-like slits of his pupils bearing down on the Dark Lord that he had freed from imprisonment as though daring him to question what he could do.

Grindelwald had to admit that the plan had a simple elegance to it, all he had to do was steer the Death Eaters towards the boy and they would be all too happy to eliminate the boy who had defeated him. The boy was equally foolish enough to tackle the Death Eaters, feed the right words into his ear and someone who had defeated a Dark Lord like Grindelwald could easily take on four of his servants singlehandedly, hell even if he took some of his friends with him it would make no difference.

In the end, the Boy Who Lived would be just another corpse. One that would crush the spirits of the wizarding world and then when he returned with Voldemort and the girl at his side they would prostrate themselves before him.

Yes… this plan had the possibility of bearing considerable fruit if it was nurtured appropriately.

"Do go on Lord Voldemort, I find myself intrigued." Ultramarine eyes met crimson and with a sinister smile they began to unfurl the design that would shake the British wizarding world to its core and leave it ripe for the taking.

* * *

><p><strong>Lir Castle, Point Scarlett, Scotland<strong>

"I take it things did not go as smoothly as we'd hoped they would or else we wouldn't have four escaped Death Eaters and not just the one." Dumbledore didn't so much ask the question as state it, his blue eyes staring into Ariana's and demanding an answer without ever voicing the question.

The thought of not answering until he voiced the question crossed her mind and she toyed with the notion but found that she could not. Her mouth was already moving of its own accord, "Things went exactly as we planned, there were no complications." Ariana's voice came out stiff and robotic, utterly unlike its usual lilting and musical sound.

His eyes narrowed angrily at the woman and she could feel prickling sensations shoot across her back as if she could feel the beads of sweat forming against her skin, "Do explain Ariana, if there were no complications why then did you deviate from the plan?" The Headmaster's voice had cold edge to it, one that would have cut anyone down to the quick.

But Ariana felt strangely detached from it all, fear never figured into her mind; just the reasoning behind the decision she made to free the other Death Eaters. "Simple Albus, your desire was to have Neville face off against a Death Eater and triumph; not only instilling causing him to increase his self-confidence but also to show the wizarding world that he was capable.

"But we both know that Peter Pettigrew is a coward, triumphing over him might be worth a headline or two but in the long run it'll barely move the dial of public opinion. But if he were to take down a cell of escaped Death Eaters, that would more than sway public opinion; it would place him on a pedestal shared only by the most decorated of aurors."

The implication was obvious, the Boy Who Lived would be recognized as not only the mere vanquisher of Grindelwald but as the paragon of the light capable of taking on even the most loyal of the Dark Lord's forces and triumph. But it would come at tremendous risk, Albus's plan had been to ease the boy into his role; teach him just enough magic to make him dangerous to someone like Pettigrew but still dependent on the Headmaster for guidance and protection.

Taking on the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange would require more than a little training and certainly more than just one boy, but Dumbledore could not be seen battling besides the boy nor could any member of the Order. The boy would never be recognized under those circumstances but how then…

"Come now Albus, surely you haven't forgotten the reason why I'm here. I can be where you cannot and gain the trust from those who would turn you away." Ariana's voice was once more its usual melodic self as she crooned to her brother and steered his gaze back to the shining blue eyes that mirrored his own.

'Yes,' he thought, 'This could work very, teach Neville to be strong while still keeping him tame. Give him enough support that he relies on it but not enough to let him feel independent.'

"So you see brother, I was simply carrying out your orders in the best possible way." Ariana said as she leaned back into her seat in Dumbledore's private study as the Headmaster nodded his head in agreement and missed the way her eye's flashed as she smiled at him.

"Best we begin as soon as possible then." Dumbledore said as he summoned a sheet of parchment and a quill to his hand and began writing a missive to the boy's stepmother. He had found the boy a counselor that would give Neville the treatment he needed.

* * *

><p><strong>The Cottage, Cornwall, England<strong>

The Cottage, just the name of it inspired thoughts of a quaint little house stowed away in the country somewhere, a place of peace and respite from the troubles of everyday life; someplace remote and undisturbed, quiet even.

Indeed it was, remote and tranquil and the ideal place for someone retreating from the world. It had even started off as just a simple cottage, built by a young wizard some centuries ago for his bride, but it had not remained that way; his children and his children's children and every generation that had succeeded them had added to it.

Now it was more akin to a mansion albeit one that had at least nine different architectural styles, but for all its eccentricity it was a beautiful place; built just a hundred yards away from the soft sands and foaming shores of the Celtic Sea. The air was filled with the scent of seawater and a pleasant breeze seemed to linger at all times of the day; truly a place meant for becalming restless spirits.

Regina despised it! The house creaked like it was about to fall in on itself, the water was always much too cold and took forever to heat up to the temperature she had to have it at so she could bathe, it was far too quiet at night and in the day the only thing to be heard besides the waves and the wind were the cries of seagulls. It was positively boring!

The nearest town was a Muggle fishing village and she wouldn't be caught there if there was a brand new Pierre Le Toit dress in it for her. She had to Apparate six times just to get back to London (She had never managed to go further than a few dozen miles without managing to splinch herself) unless she subjected herself to being transported by one of her House Elves (and while their form of Apparition was much more pleasant, it was reserved for children and pregnant wives).

Not to mention that the estate was under the protection of the Fidelius Charm, though considering that Dumbledore himself was the Secret Keeper was something of a privilege, she could only boast of it if she traveled to some other woman's home and played guest to her host. It left her at a disadvantage, how was she to know where to stand so that she had the most commanding view of the reception or to know where the little pockets were that sounds bounced just so that even the tiniest whisper could be picked up.

The only reason she was even hear was because Frank had insisted that it was far too dangerous to remain in public with the escaped Death Eaters, they would surely go after Neville and after the events of last year he was in no condition to defend himself. That he thought she would be anything more than a momentary impediment to give his son a chance to escape was never said though she knew she had picked up on his disdain for her.

It was probably why he had assigned that Tonks woman to stay with them but Regina had even less faith in that ninny to act as a proper defender then she considered herself to be. The only benefit of having her around at all was that she seemed to be a companion to Neville. She took every opportunity to contort her face or change the color of her hair to make the boy smile and laugh.

She was even a capable flyer, the two of them had made it something of a habit by now to take brooms out over the beach and just play catch with a quaffle that Neville had laying around.

It was Dumbledore and Artemis who made Regina feel safe though, ever since that first letter had arrived. They were constantly visiting to spend time with the boy and it seemed to be having a tremendous impact, Neville had begun his summer barely capable of being by himself without going into a fit of hysteria. For all that he was the Boy Who Lived he was still but a child, her ten years as his stepmother had taught her that.

She had loved him like he was her own and not just because he was the ultimate accessory, his presence at her side had given her a good deal of sway at her societal functions, but because he had always been a son to her, from the day he was born she had sworn to herself that she would always be there for him.

It had broken her heart to see him toss and turn every night in the throes of a nightmare, she couldn't possibly imagine what it was like to have the spirit of the man who'd killed your mother in front of you and tried to kill you living in your head and then imprisoning you in as he took control. Every night after he had come home for the summer he had woken up, drenched in a cold sweat and barely coherent until she soothed him and cradled him back to sleep.

The mind healer from St. Mungo's had been of little help in counseling the boy and done little but supply them with Calming Draughts since he never managed to end a session without leaving the boy in a nearly hysteric state. When the news had come that You-Know-Who's minions had broken free of Azkaban during the riot (which Gilderoy Lockhart had created, damn the man) it was all she could do to even get him to sleep, he was so afraid. She had fired the mind healer and called on Dumbledore to find someone who could actually help and he had arrived the very next day with Artemis.

Regina had no idea who the woman was or her qualifications for treating her son save that Dumbledore had recommended her with the utmost sincerity. In truth she had proven to be the complete antithesis of her predecessor, within days they were seeing improvement in Neville's condition. He was more restive, actually able to sleep through the night with just a few nightmares and then he never woke terrified of them. He just seemed happier after his sessions with the blonde woman.

It had taken her some time to get used to having the woman in her house, it always rankled Regina when there was anyone near her as beautiful as she was and there was no denying the woman was beautiful. Her platinum blonde hair, her angelic features, and the way she just seemed to radiate kindness; it was easy to feel inferior to that but while it had taken her a fortnight she had learned to appreciate the healer's capabilities.

So she watched from the porch of the mansion, feeling the cool ocean breeze as it drove back the heat and humidity of summer, as the Headmaster and Artemis appeared on a sand dune overlooking sea with only the faintest of pops. Neville must have known instinctually that they had arrived because he put on an extra burst of speed as he made a swooping, diving catch for the quaffle after purposely failing to catch it the first time.

Tonks cheered enthusiastically as Neville grabbed the ball just inches short of plunging into the water and skimmed over waves, the tips of his trainers just barely touching the crests as he came back to shore and alighted on the sand. His face was consumed by a riveting smile.

It was the only thing that had made this place at all worth it to be here, Neville had sprung up like a weed since his stay at the Cottage; easily gaining several inches of height and looking to have lost some of that baby fat that had left him plump well into his second year at Hogwarts. He looked like a completely different boy then before, still a few weeks shy of his it was hard to see him as a thirteen year old when he could have passed for fourteen or a fifteen year old now.

But looking at him she could still see the little boy who had clung to her skirts at dinner parties and could only be put to sleep if she sang him a lullaby. It was truly a pleasure and a profound sadness to watch him grow up, beaming out at the world as he discovered that the future of the wizarding world rested on his shoulders. But the only thing making them hunch over were the growing pains, you'd never think he was anything other than a normal boy with the way he was beaming up at Dumbledore and Artemis as they applauded his Quidditch skills.

Her fingers found themselves holding the locket around her neck reverently as she looked at the scene before her, her thumb pressing against the back of the gold pendant where she could feel the inscription.

_A & R_

_Friends Forever_

* * *

><p>It took a few minutes for Neville to put away his broom and join the Headmaster and Artemis outside on the porch, he paid no mind to how the adults were bent close and whispering softly as he took his usual seat on the bench swing across from the wicker chairs that they had claimed. He sat idly and waited for them to finish talking as he helped himself to a sherbet lemon from the small bowl that the professor always put out for their sessions.<p>

His stepmother had been insistent that he stay away from the sweets this summer so he hadn't been allowed any of the chocolates he would have preferred but it was still a nice to indulge in his sweet tooth even if the Headmaster's particular brand was more sour then he really cared to admit. It wasn't long after he had finished the confection that the Headmaster and Artemis concluded their discussion and focused on the boy.

Normally, having two nearly identical powerful stares would have unnerved Neville quite a bit but between the soothing sounds of the coming surf and the occasional cry of a gull he found that he wasn't as perturbed by it as he would otherwise be. In fact he felt rather relaxed; the sort where you know you could just lie down and take a nice refreshing nap.

The boy's thoughts began drifting along the lines of how nice it would be to take a nap when Artemis began talking and he found his attention ensnared by the blonde's musical voice. 'I wonder what her singing sounds like.' Neville thought to himself whimsically and almost laughed but stopped himself, it wouldn't be proper to laugh like that when he was in front of company.

"Neville, have you been told about the prisoners who escaped Azkaban?" Her words shimmered through the haze his thoughts had become and he found himself nodding his confirmation. The movement seemed to clear his mind somewhat and he looked from her face to the Headmaster's to see that Dumbledore was just smiling merrily at him, an anchor of good intentions that Neville could lean on.

"What do you know about the escapees Neville?" Artemis asked as her blue eyes held his and for a second it seemed that the intensity of her gaze was strong enough to read his mind but that thought was brushed aside by a sense of ridiculousness. Not that it couldn't be done, his father had told him many times that there were wizards who could sweep into your mind and lay down plans that you would follow without question, but what would Artemis gain from messing around in his mind.

"They're Death Eaters, followers of Grindelwald and Voldemort; dangerous ones too. I know that they might come after me because I defeated their master and that I should leave it to the Aurors to catch them." Neville said as he recalled another talk with his father before he was sent to the Cottage for summer. His father had seemed incredibly earnest about that last point; it had struck Neville as odd at the time that the man who had never paid all that much attention to him would suddenly be so insistent on getting that message across.

"Your father is a wise man to tell you to stay away from them; these particular Death Eaters were among the most fervent followers of their masters. What do you know about the one named Pettigrew?" Artemis asked gently, her voice soothing and reassuring. Neville realized he must have spoken about his father aloud without realizing that he had, he found he did that rather a lot during these meetings.

His thoughts swirled as he thought about what he knew about a Death Eater named Pettigrew. At first nothing specific came to mind; half-remembered articles from the Daily Prophet that mentioned he was a Death Eater who had escaped and that he had killed twelve Muggles when he tried to evade authorities. He was about to say as much when other memories began to surface.

He remembered looking up into his father's face, shadows dancing around unshaved stubble and puffy eyes that were still bloodshot from crying; the reflection of orange flames in the man's dark eyes as he stare unseeing into the fireplace.

It struck Neville that he must have been very young, his father hadn't carried him in his arms in a very long time; he had forgotten the strength of those wiry arms and the way they had once made him feel safe when they were wrapped around him. It had been even longer since he had seen his father cry, the man had an air about him that made him seem as immovable as iron and twice as cold. So this was before his father had his heart removed and sealed away in whatever vault he kept it in.

A voice sounded in the background and Frank whipped around, Neville was tucked against his chest; unable to see who was in the room but he could still hear clearly what was going on.

"It's just me Frank. Can you put the wand down?" The voice was unfamiliar but it sounded tired, like the person had been through more than they could bear but was still pushing on.

Neville felt his father shift positions so he assumed that he lowered his wand as the visitor had asked, "Sorry James." The man's voice was hoarse and gravelly, coming from deep in his chest and rumbling through past-Neville.

The visitor didn't say anything for a few moments as he walked further into the room, his footsteps heavy against the wood floors of what Neville thought was the family's London house.

"We got the bastard Frank, he took twelve Muggles down with him but we got him." James said in a pained voice though without seeing him it was hard to be certain of that.

Neville felt the man holding him go completely rigid at the news like someone had petrified him, for a long time nothing was said and only the crackling of the flames filled the silence. Finally, Frank broke the silence with a question, "Is he dead?"

"We took him alive…," James hesitated and took a breath before pressing on,"… he said he betrayed Alice for us Frank, he did it because he didn't want to give up Iris and Lily… and me. I couldn't bring myself to kill him, I'm sorry."

Just like that Neville knew who the other man in the room was, he knew only one witch by that name and she had a father named James. And he was in hell, his time Neville didn't even have to see the man to know his anguish was genuine.

For his father the sight of the man must have struck a chord akin to the pain he felt at the loss of his wife as he choked of a sob and hot tears fell into past-Neville's hair. "It's alright James, y-you did the right thing." Frank loosed a shuddering breath as he grabbed the mantle of the fireplace to steady himself and finally Neville could once again glimpse the room.

He had no need to though; he knew what his father was staring at because it hadn't been moved from its place in a decade. The centerpiece of the mantle was a picture of his mother, and her wand. Hazel and unicorn hair, dead since the night she perished in his nursery.

"I know Peter Pettigrew betrayed my family and that it is his fault that my mother is dead." Neville did not know how much time had passed since Artemis had asked him the question that had pushed him into so entrenched a memory but when he spoke there was a fire in him that he hadn't felt before.

It felt like...

"… Purpose, Neville, of our discussion when you joined us was to determine if you could stand to be back at Hogwarts after the events of last year. Madam Sinclair believes that you'd be better off being tutored at home from now on, but I want to know if there's anything we can do to accommodate you." The Headmaster's words resonated with Neville as the cogs of his mind worked furiously.

"If I were to return to Hogwarts I would need to feel safe Headmaster, hiding behind the wards of the castle isn't an option anymore. Evil has touched me thrice behind wards; I need to be able to defend myself against Grindelwald and his followers." Neville said as he met blue eyes behind their half-moon spectacles.

"What do you suggest then Neville?" Dumbledore asked as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he made a steeple of his fingers, the grandfatherly persona put away for the moment as Light of England came to the forefront.

"Lockhart was a fraud Professor but the Dueling Club last year made the students feel safe, it let us think that we could defend ourselves. That's what I suggest Headmaster, I want lessons on how to duel and fight against the Dark, to fight against evil." Neville said as he tried to match the Headmaster's severity with his own air of seriousness.

"That's a tall order Neville, it'll be difficult to find a tutor halfway through summer to help teach you Defense Agains-"

"That's not what he's asking for Headmaster, he said he wants lessons on how to fight the Dark, on how to fight all that's evil in the world." Artemis cut the Headmaster off before he could finish, something that just about no one would even dare to do when he was like this and it showed that she had been listening what Neville really desired.

Dumbledore looked closely at Neville and when the boy nodded his affirmation of what Artemis had just said, he could not help but heave a tired sigh but he too nodded his head as though he was finally resigning himself to a long awaited fate that he was powerless to stop.

"I believe you have the right of this Artemis, and Neville has both the desire and the need. I'm sorry to say but evil has marked you dear boy; when Grindelwald visited you that Halloween night he declared you the nemesis of the Dark.

"Long have I tried to prepare myself for the day that you would need guidance and never did I foresee your need would be so soon or so great. You have seen that while defeated, Grindelwald did not die that night as we had hoped; through some foul magic he has rendered himself immortal.

"I have given my life to protecting our world from Darkness, fighting against the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort. Many friends have I seen perish in that pursuit, I would give anything to spare you that burden child but I fear that I cannot. So if you will permit it, I will take it upon myself to train you, to give you the strength and the knowledge necessary to fighting against the Dark."

Neville did not bother hiding the smile that split his face; he had successfully played the situation to his advantage and got what he wanted. It was very Slytherin for a Gryffindor but his stepmother would have approved of it so he only hoped that the adults saw his smile as one of gratitude and not triumph.

Ariana almost snorted as the boy all but ran inside to tell his mother that he would be going to Hogwarts to train with Dumbledore personally. It was almost unfathomable that it was this child who was destined for greatness, his very will twisted and turned to suit their agenda and made to believe that his manipulations were of his own devising.

Perhaps training with Albus would give him some kind of a mind of his own but she doubted it, her dear brother required soldiers and good soldiers obeyed orders. They did not question them.

She wondered then what that made her, after all she had no will of her own save to see her brother's vision become reality.

* * *

><p><strong>Ollivander's Wand Shop, Diagon Alley, London<strong>

Ollivander wondered at times whether his family was blessed or cursed by their skill to craft wands.

Often he felt that it was a gift, the way that he almost seemed guided to the trees and how each piece of wood seemed to shape itself, each crying out with its own voice as they demanded his hands to whittle here and there. He had heard the sage voices of ancient oak heartwood, stubborn with age and too old to change their ways and the fresh voices of young birch saplings that sought adventure.

There were times though when he whittled a wand that he would much prefer never found an owner, true blackguards as far as wands went but as much as he despised them it never stopped him from completing it. Finding the core that resonated with the wand and pairing them in the delicate ritual that could only be completed four times a year when Magic was strongest in the world.

Regardless of the wand he shaped, it was familiar; a creation that was not quite alive but sentient enough to know its owner and the world around it. It was why he prided himself on remembering every wand he ever sold, whether crafted by his hands or one of his forefathers, because each connection forged in his humble shop with its too full shelves and layers of dust was a unique and mystical moment. A beginning to a story that would shape both the wand and its bearer in ways they had never planned.

But before him was a creation not of his own making though his hands had shaped it and an ongoing story that he had not been the author to.

Lying on the workbench was thirteen inches of spiraling, pearlescent unicorn horn; the clearest ivory he had ever seen and alive with a pulse of its own. The aurora that it had held when it was first left with him had faded in time as he worked the material, turning inward like the steel of the samurai and folded over and over upon itself until the magic developed a sentience all of its own.

Wooden wands often had an abstract view of the world, they had remained motionless and stood vigil for decades and centuries; seeing the world change with the seasons and what happened in there domain as a lofty observer. It took the binding of a core to give it the knowledge of daily living, the sense of life that was intrinsic to every creature.

The unicorn horn was different; it remembered the flight through dark forests as a predator crashed about behind it; the exhilaration and terror of running for its life. It remembered the drinking of spring waters that had never been seen by human eyes and the glades and groves that had been old when man was young.

In reverse of his practices he had sought to find the right wood to bind to the horn as a core, the ancient wisdom to balance the creature and he found that only one wood suited the horn. It had taken many months of wondering through the forests to find the bough that resonated with the unicorn horn, it had been the only aspect to the wand that Echidna had left him without direction and why he had insisted on having a year to complete the project.

But when he found the wood he knew that he had in his possession a wand that would change the world, as if the possession of a unicorn horn freely given was not a good enough indicator of that but when coupled with the heartwood of an aspen tree; he was left with the wand of a star changer.

More than a mere revolutionary, the star changer was the sort of person who could seemingly change the constellations themselves if they wished.

"I have no idea who you are Lady Echidna, mother of monsters and daughter of Hecate, but I expect that I will learn. And the world along with me." Ollivander muttered as he wrapped the wand in the velvet that it had been presented in and packaged it carefully to be mailed with his eagle owl.

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><p><strong>Potter Manor, Warwickshire, England<strong>

Grass, soft and warmed by the rays of sunlight that streaked through the clouds above like brush strokes on blue canvas, pressed against the bare skin of Iris's neck and arms as she laid on her back. Her chest was heaving as she gulped down air and panted from exertion, strands of ebony hair stuck to her forehead from beads of sweat while the rest of her hair pooled around her head like a dark halo.

A soft thump on the ground beside her announced the presence of another but it mattered little when chocolate brown curls entered her peripheral vision as a head came to rest beside her own. Hermione's breath came in ragged gasps as well but it quickly gave way to laughter, the deep body shaking kind that came from deep in the chest and was incredibly contagious.

It took only a moment before the two girls were wracked by uncontrollable laughter, laughter which only increased as a familiar platinum blond youth stood over them with his arms crossed and a look of exasperation crossed his features.

"Absolutely juvenile! I can't believe that man – would you to stop it! It wasn't that funny!" Draco growled out as he straightened his clothes as though he were afraid they would suddenly jump off him. His two friends, if you could call people you would happily murder friends, were reduced to tears at his action.

Iris attempted to stifle her laughter, going so far as to bite down on the knuckle of her hand as she sat up but it did little to subdue her mirth since Hermione just laughed even harder, she could hardly breathe for all of it.

"Oh Draco, where is your sense of humor?" The soft reprimand fell from the lips of Daphne but whatever rebuke it might have had was lost behind the barely constrained laughter that she valiantly held back. It did little to settle Draco as he whipped towards the heiress and all but growled at her.

"If only y-you could have – seen your face!" Hermione gasped out through her tears of mirth, if she kept laughing any harder she would probably black out from lack of oxygen.

"I've never seen so many emotions pass across someone's face so quickly, truly a remarkable performance Draco." Blaise's smooth and cultured voice wafted through the air as he followed behind Daphne with a blushing Liatris on his arm, gowned in a neon pink Victorian-style dress.

"Yes, well, I'd like to see how you react to stepping out of a fireplace to find that your clothes have been replaced with a dress!" Draco declared indignantly as he crossed his arms across his chest haughtily as he pointedly glared at the offending article that Liatris was wearing. It was difficult to tell if the red in his cheeks was from embarrassment, anger or maybe a bit of blush that Sirius had added to the prank.

"At least it was a pretty dress." Liatris supplied as she gave a modeling twirl to show off the frills and ruffles and decorative petticoat. The sincerity in her voice was contrasted by the mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched Draco purple apoplectically.

Hermione was reduced to a frightful fit of giggles, Daphne actually shot a look of concern at the bushy haired brunette but the older girl waved it off as she fought to regain some self-control, scrubbing away the tear marks that had run down her face with the back of her hand before Blaise produced a clean handkerchief from a pocket for her to use.

Draco tried to come up with a retort that was scathing enough to tell the auburn haired girl what he thought of the damned dress without insulting her for wearing it. He failed.

"Pretty as it might be, it suits you much better than me!" The moment the words were out of his mouth the boy regretted saying anything at all as Blaise's schooled expression cracked as his lips twitched and Daphne hid her smile behind a hand as she feigned a cough.

"So you're saying you'd be suited to an uglier dress or a prettier one?" Liatris pressed as she smiled wickedly at her 'cousin,' her hazel eyes twinkling with devilish delight. The look was much more suited to cat playing with its prey.

"I'm not saying that at all!" Draco responded quickly as he looked for an escape to the way the conversation was turning but his friends were proving to be of no use at all. Hermione had simply laid back down and thrown her arm over her face as she clutched at her aching sides.

"So is it the color that doesn't suit you then?" Liatris suggested as she indicated the neon pink frills she was sporting.

"Yes! I mean no!" Draco scrambled at the out before realizing the trap that he had sprung and tried to correct himself but it was too late; Liatris had adopted an innocently thoughtful look as she seemed to weigh his words. He settled for glowering at her with his best death glare and hoping she'd spontaneously combust.

Iris looked over at Hermione who was making small sounds of distress as she held in her laughter as best as she could but from the sound of it she had probably broken a rib. Less than an hour into her birthday celebrations and already this was shaping up to be the best birthday she'd ever had. At the very least it would prove to be the most entertaining.

* * *

><p>"Do you remember ever being quite so young?" Narcissa asked as she looked out upon the sprawling grounds that the Potters kept from the balcony of their second floor drawing room. Her gaze was focused on the group of children that were huddled around the birthday girl, her goddaughter, a small smile on her face as she watched her son waving his hands about frantically in animated conversation.<p>

"Often and fondly, Cissy; often and fondly." Lily repeated with a smile of her own as she stood beside her friend, leaning her weight on the metal railing with its floral design; iron flowers bewitched to bloom and smell like their authentic brethren.

The two women stood in companionable silence as they watched the children talk and inevitably play, Iris it seemed had not lost her zeal for flight in the nearly three years since she had seemingly taken it up. Narcissa watched the girl soar up into the air ahead of Draco and Blaise, shooting past the balcony's height and sitting loftily above the world.

Seeing her on the broom with her black hair whipping about her face and her eyes closed in raptured bliss; Narcissa amended her previous thought to the 'young woman' who soared up into the air, "How is she?"

"Better, whatever weight she was carrying during the spring recess is gone. For the first time in what seems a long time she seems utterly free." Lily replied with a note of relief in her voice as she matched her friend's gaze and followed her daughter's movements through the air with her eyes.

Narcissa looked over at the red-headed woman and raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, 'And?' It was indeed rather easy to see that the girl before them was a much different one who had spent her last holiday home sequestered in her room.

"It feels like she's becoming more powerful every day, most times you'd never notice it unless you pay attention; like the air is heavier whenever she steps into a room. But on days like today, when she's excited, you can practically feel the magic in the air; the way it sings." Lily struggled to explain it, magic had always felt alive to her, it was the reason why she had been drawn to the Old Ways and how they revered Magic as living entity.

But with Iris it felt like her daughter's magic was a manifestation of her will, the way it hummed when she was contemplating some problem or purring contentedly when she was reading in the library.

"Do you think she's a Lady in the making?" Narcissa asked though her question had the air of being more a statement of fact than anything else. The woman had been a witch her whole life and was steeped in the lore of the Old Ways; it would be very typical of her to have drawn the appropriate conclusion based on just a few signs.

"I'm positive she's a Lady in everything but power at this point and I've suspected as much since last summer. Remus's condition becomes easier to manage whenever she's around, the forest stirs the moment she comes home and she knows it, I've never seen anyone more sensitive to magic in all my life.

"I suspect it's the reason why she was under so much pressure during the school year." Lily confided as the children started playing tag on their broomsticks while what must have been Hermione shouting up at them to be careful.

"Draco wrote me letters, he was concerned about her and didn't know what to do; he could tell that there was something wrong with her but she never told them what it was. You think it was her coming into her powers that were bothering her?" It was a tad frustrating that Narcissa seemed to have to ask all these questions about her goddaughter, but she supposed it was her own fault; the pair of them had been working at repairing the trust between them ever since the duel they had fought but it was still difficult not being a bigger part in the girl's life.

"I think it played a part in it but only so far as someone else noticed it and they got their hooks in her…" Lily trailed off as she thought about what that must have felt like, knowing that not only had the school itself turned against her because of what was happening around her but that an adult, someone she was supposed to trust, had been abusing her somehow.

It turned her stomach and filled her with a dangerous desire to find out who it was that had been hurting her baby so she could practice a few of her Darker curses on them, it had been a long time since the Valkyrie had flown but that witch was still there. And it ached to deliver retribution upon the fools that had hurt her daughters.

"Dumbledore?" Narcissa could readily envision the Headmaster with his silver beard manipulating a child for his own means; he was a man for whom truly the ends justified the means.

"Or Riddle." Lily remembered the way the look in the man's eyes when she made him swear to protect her children, there had been more than just the sense of duty a Deputy Headmaster might have or even a teacher. It had been personal to him.

"What do you plan to do?" Concern and curiosity mixed together as the blonde considered the implications of having the two titans of the magical community both taking an interest in her best friend's daughter.

"What can I do? James would never agree to send the girls to Beauxbatons; he's too much the Headmaster's man to think that any other school could possibly be safer than Hogwarts. The thought that it was the Headmaster himself that was threatening the girls would never even occur to him, and I won't be able to convince him without proof." It rankled that her own husband was so blindly faithful to the old man, self-preservation had been her motivating force for fighting against the Dark Lords but Dumbledore's vision was still a death to their way of life, just a slow and mostly bloodless death and therefore much easier for people to accept.

"Bitterness does not suit you Lily, and surely after all this time it should not be very surprising that James's loyalty lies with Albus." Severus's voice filled the silence that had followed in the wake of the woman's statement and caused both women to jump in surprise, though both of them regained their composure quickly; Snape noted the small movements that indicated wands returning to their sheaths.

"Rather rude to let yourself in unannounced Severus." Narcissa admonished as she approached the black clad potions master and kissed him on the cheek in greeting, he noted that she didn't so much as look at his hair which he knew was incredibly greasy of late as Dumbledore had him brewing potions nonstop this summer. He had no idea what possible use the Headmaster could have for the psychotropic Daydreamer Potion but whatever the reason he had needed much of it.

Lily didn't approach him but instead stood her place by the railing and was looking him up and down, measuring him with a critical eye the way that Pomfrey did to her patients as if she could tell exactly what ailed them just by staring at them. He didn't know what the woman saw but she nodded approvingly before she greeted him with a kiss on the opposite cheek.

He could feel his heart beating swifter as warm lips pressed against the sallow flesh of his cheek and the scent of her hair swirled about him, for just a moment he allowed himself to enjoy it before he sank all of it down beneath the waters of his mind and reality rushed back in.

"Hello Severus, I'm afraid that I had forgotten if we had plans to meet today." Lily said as she took a step back so that she could meet his gaze without having to crane her neck backwards to look up at the teacher.

"We didn't but Albus asked me to come on his behalf, he wanted to be the first to tell you that the seat on the Board of Governors was officially yours." Severus reached into his robes and extracted tightly rolled scroll that had been slipped through a silver signet ring bearing the Hogwarts crest.

Lily plucked the scroll from his hand lightly, freeing the parchment from the ring her eyes darted across the page as she muttered the words under her breath to the effect that he knew that it was a simple congratulatory letter and that there would be a small reception in her honor in a few weeks to introduce her the other governors. When she was done she slipped the ring onto her right hand and they watched the band mold and shape itself to fit her as the crest took on color.

"The Headmaster also sent this," Severus reached once more into his robes and pulled out a small giftwrapped box, "for Iris."

Narcissa snatched the box out of his hand before Lily got her hand halfway up to the parcel; her wand spewing webs of multicolored light that the potioneer recognized as diagnostic spells. He didn't bother to tell them he had already done the same thing and the only he had been able to find was the inherent magic of a Sneakoscope.

When Narcissa came to the same conclusion she handed the gift over to Lily who looked at the small box as though it was particularly disgusting, Snape didn't dare use Legilimency on the mother of two but if he had he was sure that he would see her considering whether to blow the package into tiny pieces or if she should dissolve the thing in a particularly nasty vat of acid.

Whatever her thoughts, she Vanished the parcel for the time being and looked at Severus with her critical clear emerald eyes and started to ask a question but before she even managed to get the words out Lily was stopped dead as Liatris's shriek sheared through the pleasant afternoon atmosphere and made her blood run cold.

The mother twisted around to see what had caused her daughter to scream so and for a frightening moment she did not see what it was that was causing her daughter distress. It is a heart wrenching and indescribable terror for a parent to know that their child is in need but be utterly incapable of helping them.

Following the line of Liatris's gaze she sought the cause of the bloodcurdling scream but all she could see was the familiar white form of Hedwig; the owl was rising from the ground with something clutched in its talons. The object in question looked fuzzy, as though it were difficult for her eyes to focus on it though she could see that whatever it was; it was growing larger.

The object soon took on far more mass then Hedwig could possibly carry and it fell to the ground. She could feel a surge of magic as someone behind her cast a spell and the blob came into crystal definition and for a heart stopping minute she saw an all too familiar face as the devil that had kept her up at night met her gaze.

Small watery eyes set into a face that was thinner than she had ever seen it before, Peter Pettigrew stood on the lawn of her home no more than a few dozen yards away from the children. Too far to hit with a spell and apparating would only prompt him to flee.

He smiled up at her and then gazed upon the children, they who were frozen in place by the filthily clad man who appeared more skeletal then flesh. All but Iris, who seated upon her broom gazed down at him with a carefully stoic expression, sizing up the trespasser fearlessly.

Perhaps the realization that the girl knew exactly who she was looking at shouldn't have been surprising, not after the way her gift of flight had appeared overnight only three years ago or the way she had competently dueled someone of Narcissa's prowess, but it was.

Pettigrew seemed to catch on as well, he had always been quick to recognize talent perhaps as a result of his lack of it but whatever the case, he focused his gaze the raven haired witch who made her Nimbus appear a throne and her wild, windswept locks the very image of regality.

To her he bowed his head just a tad and then looked back to Lily as spells blossomed from Slytherin wands and painted the air red and violet as they streaked past. For her he gave a wink, and then with a pop he was gone.

The ground he had stood upon was withered and charred a moment later but all Lily felt was cold.

Her nightmare had just become reality.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This chapter was supposed to go out the same weekend as the interlude but after reviewing it I decided that I wasn't happy with it and decided to work on it some more. I'm sorry for the delay but I hope you'll find this chapter better for the revision.

As always, reviews, comments, and critiques are always appreciated and if you have any questions; feel free to drop them in the reviews or send me a pm and I'll answer you as best as I can. Cheers everyone!

**Next Chapter: **Betrayal is in the Wind


	21. Chapter XVIII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **I know this update has been long awaited and long overdue so I apologize for the long wait but there is a valid reason for the tardiness of this chapter that I'll explain at the bottom of the chapter. For now, please enjoy the chapter and as always please leave a review.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XVIII**

**Selwyn House, West Sussex, England**

The Selwyn House was a lavish home crafted from pale rose colored stone that sprawled over a half acre in southern England. It was the newest property of the Ancient and Noble House and had become their seat of political power, the place where alliances were forged and power brokered to push legislation through the Wizengamot.

Rickard Selwyn took no small amount of pride in that fact, it had taken him a lifetime to cultivate his political connections and Ministry contacts but the rewards spoke for themselves. After the Chief Warlock and the Minister he had the most political power in the Wizengamot, the other chairs for the pureblood agenda looked to him for guidance and his wealth made it possible for him to secure the moderate voting bloc.

It was why he had been sought after by Grindelwald himself and made the Seneschal of the Knights of Walpurgis. He was perhaps the only man in all of England that knew that the Teacher had not been killed that Halloween night so many years ago and that the Dark Lord had not abandoned the cause by had tactically retreated. For over a decade he had been the consummate operative, working tirelessly to ensure that the pureblood agenda did not backslide but continued to progress, even if it was slowly.

So it had come as quite the surprise when he had received orders to do more than just exercise his political acumen for the good of the cause but to take out a personal advertisement in the Daily Prophet. To him the message had been purely nonsensical but it was apparent that someone had managed to decipher it because by the second evening after the ad had run, he had found himself harboring a set of fugitives.

It had been commonly known that the Death Eaters were Lord Voldemort's soldiers, that to take his mark was to pledge yourself to the bloodshed of war. The Dark Lord had attracted the young and idealistic with his charisma, his promises of power and places of honor in his new world order.

In his old age, Lord Selwyn had come to see the impetus of youth for what it was; foolish and destructive. The smart move had always been to gather strength, to consolidate it and weave the web of intrigue so when the trap was sprung; there was no opposition left. He wondered just what web was being woven now as he looked down upon his 'guests' from the second floor of his library.

The last of the Lestrange line sat before the hearth as a fire crackled merrily, the only sounds that carried across the distance of the room was of them wolfing down the food that his house-elves had prepared for them. Bowls of broth and baskets of freshly baked bread were empty and goblets of white wine were drained completely alongside the vials of potions meant to help them recover from the effects of imprisonment.

'The physical effects anyway' Rickard thought to himself ruefully as he recalled Rodolphus muttering to himself feverishly while Rabastan simply stared out of haunted eyes, a vacant expression on his face as he moved about robotically. Bellatrix had proven to be the most lucid of the trio when they had arrived Disillusioned in the copse of trees on the border of his wards but he wasn't sure just how sane she still was; it seemed to him that the only thing that held her together and drove her forward was the Dark Mark on her arm.

He watched her touch and caress it as though it was her master himself, faded and grey the Dark Mark was little more than an inert tattoo most of the time but he knew that it occasionally flared to life. He had seen his youngest son clench his hand and grit his teeth as the agony of the writhing tattoo manifested itself, reminding those who had taken the mark onto their flesh that their master was still alive and that he was simply biding his time.

Lord Selwyn's ruminations were interrupted as the air shimmered in front of him with a golden haze and the sounds of the fireplace and the Death Eaters fell away, leaving just the sounds of his breathing and that of someone else's.

"How are our guests Rickard?" The voice of Grindelwald sounded from over his left shoulder as smooth and cultured as the first time that the wizard had addressed him all those years ago. The visage of the man was much changed though, where once there had been an old and time weathered face was now the face of a young man of powerful Nordic features but his skin was sickly and there were beads of sweat that clung to his upper lip as though he had exerted himself tremendously.

"They are alive my Lord, but I fear that they are…" _broken, _was the word that sprung to mind but Selwyn settled for, "… unstable." It made little difference in the scheme of things though, he had opened his home to the fugitives; taken tremendous risk and for nothing.

Grindelwald turned his gaze on Rickard and met his eyes calmly, "Do not trouble yourself over it my friend, stability is not necessary for the task I have for them; in fact it is to my benefit if they are unhinged. Do you have what I asked for?"

Selwyn nodded curtly and retrieved the thin, rectangular boxes from under his robes that could have only contained one thing. "Our agents in the Ministry are proving most useful, reports are being circulated that the Death Eaters are staying in Leeds and moving northward. Cornelius has employed the use of Dementors to aid in the search and has decreed the fugitives be Kissed on sight."

Gellert smiled, genuinely pleased at the news as he opened the boxes and plucked the wands from their resting places. He could feel the magic in the cores humming after being unused for so long and straining to return to the hands of their wielders. "What news do you have on Pettigrew?"

"Nothing good I'm afraid, Pettigrew split with the rest of the fugitives shortly after making land fall; we can only assume that he had a bolthole of his own since it was not widely known that he was a Death Eater before the events at the Longbottom home so he was probably prepared to go to ground if he should have to go into hiding.

"Reports have come in that his first confirmed sighting was at the Potter estate in Warwickshire, apparently he crashed the Heir's birthday celebrations before he escaped. The common belief is that it was meant to be a statement rather than an attack." Lord Selwyn explained while he took back the empty wand boxes and Vanished them.

Grindelwald did not speak for a moment as he considered the new information; Pettigrew had never been anything but a follower and for him to go off by himself to settle his vendetta was very peculiar. That he had confronted the Potters on Iris's birthday was more disconcerting still; the girl was vital to his future plans and Peter threatening her was intolerable.

"Use your contacts with the Ministry to focus pursuit on Pettigrew; if he's making himself visible then it's clear that he's the most dangerous." Grindelwald instructed his British Seneschal as he considered his next move carefully, "I'm going to take these three to Rosier Castle to recover, see to it that I have two house-elves to accompany me."

"As you say, my Lord." Selwyn bowed stiffly, limited by the age of his body and departed as swiftly as he could manage from the library to see to the Teacher's request. Gellert conjured a handkerchief and dabbed away at the sweat that had formed on his skin as he descended the spiral staircase to the first floor of the library.

This body was failing quickly, the more magic he pushed through it the faster it was tiring and the youth whose mind he was suppressing was fighting much harder than he should have been able. It was just his luck that he had managed to stumble on a natural Occlumens, he would have to move on quickly but first he had some matters to attend to.

He weighed each of the wands in his hands as he approached he trio by the fireplace until he settled on one that felt more comfortable than the rest. 'Yes, this will do nicely.' He thought to himself before he cleared his throat and three sets of sunken eyes turned to focus on him.

He smiled.

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><p><strong>Daulyn Castle, Wales, UK<strong>

"I'm going to kill him! I'm going to pull his spine out with my bare hands and then I'm going to strangle him with it!" Sirius was shouting as he paced back and forth in front of the stone mantle of an enormous fireplace. The gaping black mouth would have allowed a man to easily step inside of it and have two or three others stand shoulder to shoulder with him comfortably.

It was easily the most dominating feature of the square room considering that the only other thing in it was lacquered wood table that was painted with an incredibly detailed map of Great Britain and Ireland.

Remus watched him pace with a look of a placid interest as he counted how many steps he took before he double backed and retraced his steps. The werewolf estimated that if Sirius had been on a straight path that he'd have walked three miles in the last twenty minutes from the pace he was setting.

"Why the hell are you so calm dammit!? The bastard literally knocked on our back door and walked away!" Sirius yelled as he pointed a finger at his longtime friend accusingly. This was a serious matter, one that should not be taken lightly especially considering that those who had been closest to the rat had been the children.

The man had all but said "I can hit you where it would hurt the most and there's nothing you can do to stop me." For Sirius it was intolerable, the traitor should be rotting in Azkaban where he deserved to be. He shouldn't be amongst the living to threaten innocent people with his presence; he should have been Kissed when the opportunity had presented itself.

Remus looked at the finger pointedly as he traced the offending digit back up to the Auror's shoulder before he met the man's grey eyes with his own brown ones, except for the little detail that they were flashing amber as the Wolf in him raised its hackles and snapped its teeth. His cubs had been threatened and the beast that dwelled in him was furious that it hadn't gotten the chance to rip out the throat of the predator that had tried to hurt them.

"Why? Because it'd be pointless to try to yell over you about how much I want to tear a particular man limb from limb." Remus said with a kind joviality about him that was simply frightening when juxtaposed with what he had actually said. "Now please lower your finger, it's impolite to point."

Sirius jerked his hand back as if stung before glaring at his arm traitorously before he crossed his arms with deliberate slowness. He refused to allow himself be agitated by the more _furry _side of Remus, he had run beside it too many times to relate any kind of fear to it. But a healthy respect of it was called for.

The two friends lapsed into a tense silence for a few moments before the door to the room was thrown open violently, the ancient iron hinges groaning in protest of the action as James strode into the room with his robes swirling about him and a look of unadulterated rage on his face.

Sirius swallowed audibly; or at least audibly to Remus, and the werewolf cringed a bit as the door swung shut behind the leader of the Marauders. It had often come up as school boys as to who was the more dominant personality of the group; Sirius or James, but there was never a question that it was James' presence that had held them together.

The Wolf in Remus watched the wrathful wizard cautiously as it could feel the murderous intent that was rolling off of him in waves and filling the room with a bristling energy as magic rose to the call of the Potter patriarch and the castle itself began to rouse itself.

Castle Daulyn was the ancestral home of the Potter clan, the very mortar that held the chiseled stone blocks had been mixed with Potter blood and the ash of Potter bone. There was no place in the world that was safer for a Potter seeking sanctuary or looking for a place to weather a siege. Or a place to plan the murder of an enemy.

James crossed to the table and slammed his hands down on the surface with enough force that the wood seemed to buckle beneath his palms, the man's hazel eyes looked into the painted wood as if demanding that Peter Pettigrew's location be singled out so that he could go after him.

His silence spoke louder than any of his words could have as the other men nodded to each other and took positions on opposite sides of the table.

"How are the girls?" Sirius asked quietly, his voice seemingly loud in the stillness of the room as he looked at his best friend with obvious concern.

The questioned seemed to surprise James, as though he had forgotten all about the other people in the room or the fact that he had told them to wait for him there. Taking a moment to master himself and find his voice the Auror captain responded, "Liatris is pretty shaken, I think mostly because me and Lils haven't been handling this very well. Iris seems pretty calm about it but that's nothing new; after what's been going on at Hogwarts seeing a deranged murderer is probably status quo at this point."

"I wouldn't worry too much about them at the moment; kids are more resilient than we give them credit for." Remus put in as Sirius nodded his agreement, Pollux had given him more than a few frights and that boy hadn't even seemed to realize the danger he had put himself in. In that regard he was very much like his father, more so than his mother really cared to admit.

"So what's the news?" Sirius asked as he settled himself on the edge of the table and looked at the two men with an expression of grave seriousness on his face.

"The Ministry is still trying to trace his Apparation but there's too much bureaucracy for the system to move fast enough on it so by now, Pettigrew is in the wind. We also know that Peter managed to get a hold of a wand and there haven't been any reported wand thefts since the Azkaban break out so he either had one stashed or he had help getting a new one." James' frustration was plan for them to see, he wanted to move immediately but the Ministry was anything but fast and the idea of Pettigrew having a safe place to rest his head at night after his stunt was all the more infuriating.

"That's a scary thought but we've known for a while that we never got all of the Death Eaters after the war and we certainly didn't lock up the sympathizers that were out there. Merlin knows how much I would've liked to though." The other Auror knew that there were a lot of people out there that still thought the last Wizarding War had been the right thing, that the subjugation of the Muggles and Muggleborns was appropriate, it sickened him to think that people could actually believe that.

"Any sign of the other escapees?" Remus asked as he looked over the map that was before them, if Pettigrew was getting help then it seemed all too likely that the Lestranges had probably managed to acquire some aid for themselves as well.

"A few unconfirmed sightings but nothing concrete, they've gone to ground and we're not going to be able to root them out until they go active again." James responded automatically, the Auror office had combed the island looking for the fugitives but the Lestrange name still had some weight to it even with the heirs to the House being convicted war criminals and it had proven very difficult to get a look at the family's finances.

"That doesn't sound like Bellatrix, she doesn't have the patience to sit around and hide. She'd prefer to be on the run, actively evading Aurors and making all kinds of hell for the Ministry. If her and the Lestrange brothers are quiet, it's only because they've been ordered to be." Sirius stated matter-of-factly, he knew his cousin; he had been on the team that had hunted her and her husband down after the defeat of Grindelwald, in the absence of a clear command structure she had gone about attacking targets of opportunity. Hiding wasn't in her nature.

"Are you suggesting that Voldemort is back?" Remus looked up at Sirius half expecting the man to have a goofy grin on his face only to discover the grim set of his expression.

"We never caught him and from all reports he was a highly disciplined military leader and tactician. He's the kind of personality that could lie in wait for years while laying down plans for his return. Now some of his most loyal followers are free, my money is on him picking them up as soon as he had the chance." Sirius related his theory with the air of a man who had been considering something for a very long time, it would have been a shock to anyone that was only familiar with the jokester but there was a reason why he was considered one of the Ministry's top Aurors.

"We'll bring it up to Frank but no one other than him, with the current climate at the Ministry that kind of thinking is likely to incite a riot and that's not conducive for anything especially since we can't back it up." Neither of the other room's occupants argued with James on that point, especially after the way that the Minister was behaving at the moment; if word got out that Voldemort was making a comeback on his term that man would do his best to see that the speaker was buried.

"So where do we go from here?" Remus inquired, obviously he wasn't a Ministry employee and there was no way that the DMLE would ever officially let him onto the investigation of the fugitives but that didn't mean he couldn't contribute and no one was going to stop him from going after Peter.

"There's a month until school starts up again and Pettigrew has proven that the house is compromised so the family is staying here for the remainder of the summer. Lily is already working on moving our belongings over and Sarah is doing the same.

"It's going to be a long month for everybody but I'll be damned if I'll have one member of this family hurt. In the meantime, we'll do what we do best, let's go hunting gentlemen." James concluded with a wicked gleam in his eye as he rested his hand on his wand, if Peter thought his little stunt was going to dissuade the family from taking him down then he was sadly mistaken.

* * *

><p>Iris watched as Liatris's chest rose and fell in the rhythmic deep breaths of the truly asleep as she reassured herself that her younger sister was fine, resting comfortably in her own bed even if the room she was in was a few hundred kilometers from the one she had woken up that morning.<p>

But it was hard to reassure herself when memories of a magically induced sleep kept intruding on her thoughts, it had only been a few weeks since Liatris had been roused from that slumber and when she had woken it was to the accompaniment of a scars that she would keep for the rest of her life.

What was worse was Iris could see no way to stop her friends and family from being injured, not when the timelines were shifting the way they were. It had struck her at the beginning of the summer that things were gradually evolving in a way that she was becoming less capable of predicting.

First Year had gone relatively identical to Harry's First Year with some minor changes but Second Year had demonstrated an entirely divergent history from the one her soul had experienced. There were similarities, horcruxes and Dark Lords, school secrets and magical creatures but in the end her fight had not been one that she had been prepared for.

If she was unprepared for the fight ahead then that meant that others would get hurt, and while it was a foolhardy notion that she could protect everyone; she would do everything in her power to minimize the suffering of others.

Which was what worried her now and made her sleep so elusive, she was utterly unprepared for what was coming this year. In her library of memories she could pluck out the book of what happened in her Third Year, the way that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and the series of events that had led to Pettigrew's escape on the full moon night.

But this time there was no Sirius to worry about, no exculpation of a fugitive to concern herself over and if Draco behaved then there would certainly be no execution of Buckbeak.

So what was coming then? Who was coming?

Wormtail? Harry would have dismissed that notion outright but Iris wasn't so sure, the man she remembered and the one she had witnessed in the field today were two different men. One had been a sniveling coward, he had betrayed everything for a chance at self-preservation; but the man who had looked up at her, who had nodded his head respectfully, that was a man who had not been afraid.

His appearance had been a declaration to the Marauders, he was telling them that Azkaban had killed the rat that had run in terror from the light, that the man they knew was gone. The same prison that had broken a man like Sirius, a man wracked with guilt, had forged a survivor out of a man filled with fear.

What did that mean for the future? Pettigrew had been the catalyst after all, it had been his cowardice that had sent him back to the Dark Lord and spurred his resurrection. Change one thing and the future itself could be wildly different from anything Harry had known, her job had been tough enough when it was just her trying to avert the disasters she could predict; now she had to save the world while operating blind.

'Bugger it, I need some fresh air!' Iris thought to herself as she threw back the covers on her bed and slid off the edge, her bare feet landing on the soft carpet that had been put in the room to soften the barren stone floor and thankfully quite the sound of her footsteps so she wouldn't disturb Liatris.

Fetching one of her lighter cloaks out of the wardrobe, Iris padded over to the glass doors that lead out onto the shaded balcony and slipped out. The first thing she noticed was that the night air was chiller than she had expected but it was a welcome change considering the heat of the day though she briefly considering fetching a pair of slippers as the chill soaked into her feet quickly.

Shaking her head, she drew the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she approached the edge of the balcony and looked down at the lower bailey of the castle; empty save for the jagged shadow of the curtain wall's parapets. Or so she had thought as a darker shadow began to emerge from the surrounding gloom, silent and wraithlike the form of a massive bird seemed to slip out of the shadows of what had once been a stable as it glided from the ancient structure up to the railing of the balcony before Iris.

She was a gorgeous bird, her orange eyes eerily luminescent in the darkness and marked with a keen intelligence as she looked at Iris skeptically before offering her leg and drawing the girl's attention to the thin parcel that was marked with the wax seal of Ollivander's Wands.

It seemed a lifetime ago since the time Iris had commissioned the wand from the mysterious old man in his dusty shop on Diagon Alley but as her hands untied the box and relieved the owl of its burden she found that her hands were shaking slightly in anticipation.

The brown wrapping paper fell away easily to reveal a polished wooden box, the rich red wood was all but glowing in the scarce light of the moon as the top panel slid to the side to expose the velvet lined interior that cradled the ivory unicorn horn wand.

She caressed the delicate spirals in the wand as she recalled the unicorn that had entrusted it to her, the silky soft coat of fur that had been stained with lifeblood and the golden hooves that had kicked softly at the dirt as life left it. It still filled her with a raw sadness that something so pure had been stripped from the world.

Beneath her fingertips the wand stirred to life as it was reunited with its master, the sentience that lay within far more aware than the holly and phoenix feather that she was so familiar with. She could practically feel the alien intelligence as the magic of the wand mingled with her own, its inner light pulsing in time with her heartbeat as they rediscovered each other.

There was no great rush as there had been the first time that the holly wand had chosen Iris and no spectacular light show as it called out to its brother wand in the hands of Professor Riddle. This was more subdued, somber like two people sharing their grief over the loss of a loved one; no less powerful but tinged with sadness rather than exultation.

Raising the wand from its bed of velvet she let the pearlescent ivory settle in the palm of her left hand as she felt the balance and weight of it; the extra length of it was strange but not awkwardly so and she felt that she would grow accustomed to it quickly.

What was more surprising though was how conductive the wand was, she barely had to push her magic into the horn before it pulled it in and shaped the spell she wanted; without a word a lance of light split the darkness with the glistening silver light of the moon.

With the barest exertion of her will the beam of light shrank to brilliant pinprick against the stable across the bailey and illuminating the grain in the wood and casting the shadows in sharp relief. Just as swiftly the light shifted into a diffuse curtain that softened the night with a spectral radiance as she tested her control before she snuffed out the light all together.

Iris had never felt anything like it no wand had ever felt so _right _in her hands before; it was utterly in tune with. A pure extension of her will that responded without resistance, shaping the spell as fast as she could will the pattern into existence and it was an utterly exhilarating experience.

The witch returned her attention to the eagle owl that had remained perched on the railing of the balcony as she experimented with the wand, "Give me a few moments to write a proper thank you for Master Ollivander please." She waited for the eagle owl to incline her head before she returned to her shared room with Liatris.

She checked to make sure her sister was still fast asleep before sitting at her translocated desk, a swift jab with her new wand established a silencing spell on her quill so that it would not scratch on the parchment as she wrote out her missive in her finest script. It took her a few minutes to find the right words to describe her gratitude but once she was satisfied she sprinkled the parchment with ponce to dry the ink before she sealed the letter with a piece of wax.

With the parchment in hand, Iris returned to the eagle owl and tied the letter to the leg it proffered and no sooner had she secured it the massive bird of prey swooped off of place on the railing; skimming just over the ground of the bailey before it pumped it powerful wings and cleared the curtain walls on its way back to London.

The raven haired witch looked at her new wand in the moonlight as her thoughts returned to the thoughts that had plagued her all night, the future was still uncertain and she was not sure how she was going to deal with the growing threats and machinations but she felt a bit better knowing that she was better armed to deal with it now.

As she returned to bed and shut her eyes, she drifted off to sleep with the smell of dittany to soothe her restless mind.

* * *

><p><strong>L'isola Delle Fate, La Strada Mercante, Venice, Italy<strong>

L'isola Della Fate was an ancient place, an island that had emerged from the Venetian Lagoon before any other. The lagoon dwellers who had first come to the area had named the solitary place "The Fairy's Island" in their tongue because while they could see the place from a distance, whenever anyone had tried to visit its shores they found themselves in the midst of a fog that turned them away. By the time the Romans settled the lagoon and formed Venice, L'isola della Fate had already faded into legend; its distant shores having vanished one day.

In truth, the island never moved from its spot; the magical creatures that had lived on its shores had simply gotten better at hiding it from the eyes of those ignorant of what existed beyond the scope of their own lives. That of course changed as more settlers came to the lagoon and forged what would be known as Venice, because with civilization came wizards; and these beings could pierce the veil that had blinded the Muggles.

At first the wizards were content to leave the island inhabitants to their own devices but it was always just a matter of time before wizards began to migrate to its shores and once that tide began there was no stopping it. A millennium had gone by since then and L'isola della Fate had become one of magical Italy's prime centers of commerce and culture with its haphazardly lain cobblestone streets that snaked and curved their way across the isle in the shade of buildings older than any of the wizards who entered them.

The pride of the island was its main avenue, La Strada Mercante, where anything that a wizard or witch could possibly want was available … for the right price.

Isabel Zabini had long ago made up her mind that there was no finer place to shop than La Strada, not when she felt most at home listening to her countrymen speaking in her native Italian tongue while the warm moist air of the Mediterranean played with her chestnut locks in a game that they had shared since she was a little girl learning how to walk in the family villa.

She imagined it was a trait that she shared with Blaise, though her boy would never admit that he was ever homesick; she could tell though. It was in the way he held his shoulders and the way that his smile touched a part of his eyes that it didn't whenever he was away. She knew because her father had often said the same thing about her, even though she was always home for dinner she had hated being away from home as a schoolgirl.

A small smile flitted across the woman's face as she thought of her father fondly; Don Alejandro Zabini was amongst that rare breed of men who believed that a little imagination and a lot of hard work could move mountains. The man had been her rock for as long as she could remember a mentor and a confidante as well as a friend; she was incredibly grateful for his presence and guidance in her son's life.

She watched as the two most important men in her life stood in front of a storefront a few blocks away from where she was lounging in front of a café. They were talking animatedly over whatever it was that they were looking at and from the way her father was fighting to keep a smile off of his face she knew that the man was already thinking of some way to spoil his grandson.

A small pang of grief stabbed through her as she imagined a third man standing alongside them, a man with eyes of liquid gold and a towering physique who would have had his hands resting on his son's shoulders as he bickered playfully with his father-in-law.

Her reverie was cut short as someone coughed lightly and her attention shifted to the stranger who had slid into the seat across from her own so silently that she hadn't even noticed their presence.

The man, or who she assumed was a man based on the breadth of the shoulders, she couldn't rightly tell because of the cloak the person in question was wearing. It was made from what appeared to be a soft and light fabric, dyed brown and well cut and definitely ensorcelled because with the cowl up she could see nothing but darkness where someone's features should have been.

"A pleasant day to you Lady Zabini, I must say; you look as stunning as ever." The hooded man greeted her with what she could tell was a lascivious grin on his face, even if it was hidden behind a smokescreen of darkness.

Isabel was a beautiful witch, she knew that and often used that fact to her advantage; with her long chestnut hair and pretty features, a body that she kept toned and fit through daily exercise and shapely legs that went on for days, she would be a fool not to.

"I don't mind flattery Master Atrax but it losses its appeal when the person is faceless." Isabel replied with a dismissive wave of her hand as she twisted slightly in her seat so that she could rest her left arm on the back of her chair and watch her son better. The fact that the new position caused her robes to part and revealed something of her cleavage was not lost on the witch. Nor was the fact that her holstered wand was about even with his heart.

Atrax didn't seem at all bothered by her comments (not that she expected him to be from the way the tip of his hood had just dipped) as he shrugged slightly in response, "You know if you accepted my invitation that I wouldn't have to meet you like this." He swept his hand over himself, the all-encompassing gesture taking in his cloaked figure and the fact that there was a privacy ward around that had rendered the surrounding world a faint hum.

"That is to say, if I swear an oath to your little 'organization' I get to see the inside of the clubhouse and meet all the other players." Isabel never took her eyes of her father or Blaise as she spoke, instead watching her shadowy guest through her peripheral vision as she spoke. "Thanks for the offer but I'm not interested in making an arrangement that's so …"

"Limiting? We understand your situation very well Isabel and we'd be more than willing to let you continue your … project. We can even be of further assistance to you, resources and support would be yours for the asking." Atrax interjected as he tried to entice the woman that sat across from him.

Isabel had to admit, the offer was tempting but "Actually I was going to say permanent. I'll be the first to admit that I have commitment issues, I'm sure my ex-husbands would be more than willing to agree with me on that point." She turned her attention back to Atrax and fixed the man with a cold, predatory smile.

She caught the barest indication of a repressed shiver and she couldn't help but laugh, the sound was just as beautiful as the rest of her; almost bell-like in its clarity. Isabel turned her gaze back to her son and father, watching as the two finally made their way into the store before she settled her violet eyes on the man before her.

"So now that we've taken care of the pleasantries, how about we get down to business?" Isabel inquired as she reached forward with her right hand and picked up the china cup in front of her, she brought it up to her mouth but paused for a moment to inhale the sweet aroma of the coffee (and silently spelled it with a diagnostic charm, just in case) before she took a sip.

Atrax once more shrugged his shoulders in defeat before he folded his hands on the table, she noted that his hands were also covered with gloves of the same material as the cloak, "Very well, I have the information you requested. Did you acquire the artifact?"

"The owner was exceedingly reluctant to part ways with it." Isabel stated nonchalantly as she set her cup back down in its saucer with only the faintest of rattles, "But as a matter of fact, I did."

The cloaked man waited a moment as he expected the witch before him to elaborate further but when nothing was forthcoming he proceeded, "You don't have it with you, do you?"

"Very observant of you Master Atrax, I do not have the artifact with me. But it is nearby, safe and sound behind a very secure vault." Isabel was neither careless nor stupid, while the Italian government was not as intolerant as the British were regarding the possession of 'Dark' artifacts it was still frowned upon to be discovered with one.

Rather than risk the chance of discovery, the witch had taken more secure precautions. Precautions evinced by the vault key that was drawn slowly from the interior of her robes and placed lightly on the lazy susan that lay in the middle of the table.

"I do try my best Lady Zabini, anything less would be unworthy of you." Atrax replied with an affected drawl as he rehashed his attempts to flatter the woman while he drew a leather-bound notebook from his robes and laid it on the turntable beside a plate of croissants before turning it a half rotation.

Isabel allowed an indulgent smile at the man's words as she picked up the cerulean-dyed book, with the tip of her thumbnail she arbitrarily chose a page to open to and simply stared at the page. It took a moment but the paragraphs that had previously been a detailed explanation on the mating habits of manticores began to shift, the letters rearranging themselves until she was seeing a translation of a German Auror report.

Atrax watched as the small smile on Isabel's lips grew wider, he noted that Isabel truly had a beautiful smile; that everything about her was beautiful. His eyes sliding from her face to admire the ample bosom the woman possessed and the glowing olive skin that was on display through the part in her under robes.

A shame it was all a lie, or perhaps more aptly, a shame that such beauty was the sheath of so potent and lethal a weapon.

The hooded man raised his gaze to the more polite position of his companion's face and took in the almost gleeful expression on the woman's face, the perfect smile and her brightly shining eyes. He could not help but feel a small surge of pride and satisfaction in the knowing that he had made Isabel so happy.

Clearing his throat he summoned those bright amethyst eyes of hers to focus on him once more, it was unfortunate that he had to cut her delight short but they were there for business after all.

"A key does me little good without a bank to go to and an account to claim Isabel." Atrax pointed out as he lifted the silvery-white key from the table, based on the color and the unexpected lightness of the key he supposed that it was made from palladium. The goblins were very selective when it comes to metal and one can tell the worth of a vault to them by the key assigned to it. An iron key was reserved for the least significant vaults and golden keys for the most respected of accounts; palladium guaranteed the account was prized but the holder was no one of especial import.

"Well then Atrax, that information depends on whether or not you've delivered my fee." Isabel replied easily as she shut the book tenderly and slid it delicately under her robes, with what the man though was a deliberate slowness.

He took his before speaking, ensuring that his voice remained as cool and collected as ever, that he was utterly unaffected by the game she was playing. "The fee was transferred to your designated accounts exactly as you requested. Minus the amount for the information we've provided you, of course."

"Of course, and I suppose I trust you enough to believe that's the truth of the matter. But a girl can't be too careful when it comes to her money." Isabel stated casually as she extracted a piece of parchment with the same hand that she had pocketed the book and laid it flat on the table before her.

Seeing the string of runes that circled the edge of the parchment was enough for Atrax to identify the document, blut rechnung, a blood account. They were quite rare to see as most people disliked the practices that were involved with working that particular piece of magic.

Isabel had no qualms about it though, she kept a close eye on her companion as she shifted in her seat slightly so she could bring her left arm forward with an unnoticeable flick of her wrist she could feel her wand slide free from the holster and jump into her waiting hand.

It pleased her to see that the hooded man flinched at the sudden appearance of her wand, a reminder of just who he was dealing with this fine summer morning. She took the moment to turn her eyes down the street to the shop that her son and father had disappeared into, they were talking a while and that was worrisome. Her eyes scanned the rest of the street leisurely though taking note of the people passing by, oblivious of what was happening at the table in the café patio.

Returning to business, the brunette witch laid the tip of her cherry wand against the heel of her right palm and silently intoned a spell that caused the tip of her wand to alight with a red glow; dragging the wand's tip slowly about an inch she cancelled the spell. Turning her hand revealed a neat incision that had parted the flesh and allowed her blood to flow freely as she laid it atop the parchment.

It took only a moment before the runes around the edge of the paper pulsed to life, allowing Isabel to remove her hand and heal the cut while letters drawn in red ink slowly began to emerge on the paper.

To Atrax the letters on the paper made no sense and the longer he stared at them the greater his eyes wanted to cross but to the Italian born witch, the letters spelled out bank accounts and the last ten transactions for each one that was tied to her blood; allowing her to see that the man seated across from her had told her the truth.

"I apologize for not taking you at your word Master Atrax but it never hurts to be thorough in these matters…unless of course when it does." Isabel said dryly as she waved her wand over the parchment and watched as it ignited at once and quickly burned itself away until not even ash was left behind. "You'll find that key goes to La Banca dei Medici, account 491307257."

Atrax nodded and rose from the table as he committed the account number to memory, in his line of work it was not smart to leave anything written down, "As always, it has been a pleasure doing business with you Lady Zabini. I do hope you'll extend our greetings to the Don and young Blaise."

Isabel's eyes narrowed at the mention of her loved one's but she couldn't tell if that was a veiled threat or a genuine expression on Atrax's part so she let it go for now as she watched him brush out the nonexistent wrinkles that might have formed while he was sitting.

"One last thing Isabel, we would be very appreciative if you kept your ear out for someone going by the name Echidna. Any information regarding her would be well compensated." Atrax stated it lazily, as though it were an afterthought but from the tension in his shoulders; she suspected it was far more than something that had conveniently slipped his mind until just then.

"Why the interest?" Isabel inquired as she felt mild curiosity at what had the man so wired about this Echidna person.

Atrax hesitated for a moment, obviously debating how much he should divulge to her before he settled on, "From what our sources have gleaned, Ollivander has spent the better part of a year working on a custom wand for her. A wand made from unicorn horn."

Isabel raised an eyebrow at that information, she was no wandmaker though she had dabbled a bit in wandlore and she knew that such a wand would be exceptionally rare. Exceptionally powerful as well if the organization that Atrax represented was asking her to keep her ear to the ground over the matter.

"As you've no doubt deduced, such objects are ... hard to come by. And those that can wield them are similarly scarce." The man was doing his utmost to seem aloof about the whole thing but there was something off about this. Atrax represented a shady group of characters, she knew that, the jobs that she did for them were seldom legitimate and the information they provided her with was not being used for anything that law abiding citizens would approve of; at least none with strong civic inclinations.

The very nature of their association meant that they were both very dangerous people and that knowledge was what kept their meetings civil and professional. Whoever this Echidna person was they were an unknown variable and such quantities while often harmless could just as easily alter the playing field; especially if what Atrax was saying was true.

Isabel would have to keep an ear to the ground then, learn who the alias belonged to and then identify if they posed any significant threat to her goals. If she did, then they would have to be eliminated but if they were a potential asset … it would be best if she was acquired quickly.

The brown robed man seemed to take her thoughtful silence as acceptance of the assignment and bowed respectfully to her before departing. As soon as he was past the edge of the wards he had erected the cacophonous din of the world rushing back in to fill the tranquil space that the pair had occupied.

Isabel stared into the crowd as she let her mind work on the new information, her thumb brushing the cover of the book that was resting against her side. A storm was brewing, she could sense that much, and she knew that England was at the heart of it; the way that things had happened at Hogwarts last year and now the escape of prisoners from Azkaban. Too many things were happening too close together to be matters of mere coincidence, which meant that someone was orchestrating things.

So was this Echidna responsible or was she just a piece of a much larger game going on?

Isabel was intrigued by the puzzle but she set her thoughts aside as she saw her father and Blaise step out from the store with what appeared to be small trunk, it wasn't until the pair drew nearer that she realized that it was actually an instrument case. That brought a smile to her lips and she watched the Don was smiling broadly as Blaise was enthusiastically thanking his grandfather for the present.

The witch rose to meet the pair and fondly slipped onto her son's other side, taking his arm and listening as he enthused about what he was going to play first when they returned to the villa. She exchanged a knowing look with her father, both of them thinking the same thing, Blaise was very much like his grandmother; the woman had been an exceptional musician and had passed her voice onto her daughter. It seemed though that her grandson had inherited not only her gift but her passion as well.

"Come on then you two, let's hurry home; it's been a while since I've been to a concert." Isabel said as she playfully mussed her son's hair and directed them towards La Strada's designated Apparition point.

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><p><strong>Diagon Alley, London, Great Britain<strong>

"Finally, freedom!" Pollux exclaimed dramatically as he stepped out of the dingy confines of the Leaky Cauldron's and onto the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. After nearly a month of being cooped up, in what was admittedly an exceptionally cool castle, it was nice to have a change of scenery.

Daulyn Castle hadn't been so bad the first week or so as he and the Potter sisters wandered the old keep and grounds, exploring what no one outside of the Potter family had seen in generations.

James had let slip that the family apartments had been interconnected by hidden passages as a means to evade capture from Norman invaders when the castle was built. Pollux had spent the entirety of his first morning poking and prodding at every stone and fixture in his room until he had managed to find a switch hidden in the scrollwork of the mantle above his fireplace.

He had heard the scrapping of stone as the back of the firebox slide open and granted him access to a space within the walls. He hadn't hesitated to explore and made the sister's room his first priority; he had wanted to surprise them with his discovery but first he wanted to have a little fun at their expense.

From within the walls he found a small handle that he could pull on that would remove a plug of stone so that he could peek into the interior of the room. He waited until they were both preoccupied, Liatris with her school work while Iris sat reading. From his spot in the wall he could easily make out the piece of stone that would slide out and he gingerly pulled on the stone to keep it from grinding out loudly as it had done in his room.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to get the stone moved aside in silence as he would give a small tug and then listen quietly in case the girls had heard anything amiss. By the time he had an opening large enough, he was covered in a layer of sweat and grime from the disturbed dust but it was worth it as he lit a firework and tossed it into their bedroom.

The results were instant, an explosion of sparks of every color flying about the room in a colorful display; each spark exploding into a shower of others until the room was painted in every hue imaginable. The girls shared screams of surprise and Pollux watched from his hiding spot as Liatris darted from her table as sheaves of parchment that were launched into the air by a stray spark, Iris on the other side of the room was using her book to swat away any of the colorful sparks that got near her or landed on her bed.

The pandemonium fizzled out quickly and the girls were surprised to hear familiar laughter floating into their room from the fireplace as Pollux pulled the back of the firebox open and emerged from his hiding place to take a bow as he delighted in his little prank.

He had gotten a good chewing out from his mum over it but since no one was hurt and the only casualty of the fireworks display had been an ink bottle that Liatris had knocked over in her haste to hide, he didn't take the reprimand to heart and assured his mother that he would behave better.

The incident had roused the girls' curiosity though, and they had wondered just how many secrets the castle held and how many of those secrets were reserved to those of Potter blood alone.

Together they found a room filled with ancient wands that had been laid to rest on pillows of velvet and placed under panes of heavy glass, each of the cases had been marked with a bronze placard that listed the names of every Lord and Lady Potter as far back as the tenth century when the Kingdom of England was first unified; at least that was what Iris said.

She would know, the only reason he was passing in History of Magic was because she was passing down her notes to her sister since Binns never changed his lesson plans (although he had a sneaking suspicion that she in turn was just copying Hermione's notes).

Then they came across a door that had resisted all of his attempts to open it though it had given way immediately to Liatris' touch, after she had watched him do everything from use an unlocking charm to ram his shoulder into it.

The room had been full of old weapons, glittering swords and daggers, some with jewels in their hilts or elaborate engravings in the steel. There were other things too, maces and flails and axes as tall as he was even bows and quivers full of arrows. He didn't touch any of them though, not after the first sword he had tried to pick up had twisted out of his hand and nearly stabbed him in the foot; only missing because of his honed reflexes from playing quidditch.

Liatris hadn't found that room all that interesting but Iris sure had seemed rather into the whole thing as she touched some of the finely made weapons, she had even playfully given a dagger a few swipes before putting it back. Pollux thought the room was pretty wicked even though he wasn't allowed to handle anything.

They discovered what had once been a dueling chamber, Pollux recognized it instantly considering he had attended that fraudulent dueling session that Lockhart had organized the previous year at Hogwarts and where he had gotten trounced by Professor Riddle in short order. It had also been there that he had seen Iris prove to be a pretty wicked duelist herself, nothing like Riddle was, but she was far better than he had thought.

His father had been teaching how to duel since he was old enough to hold a practice wand, a tool that Auror trainees used to learn the basics of dueling and build up their reflexes since getting hit by one of the spells would paint the person's clothes in one of three colors; one meant you were unharmed, the other meant injured, and the third meant dead or incapacitated.

So without much bragging, Pollux could honestly say that he was one of the more experienced duelers in his year and with his father being an Auror he knew a few spells that most wouldn't even hear about until their third year. That said, he knew he wasn't in Iris's league though Liatris was probably fair game; still if Uncle James was teaching his daughters to duel, why was Iris so much better than her sister?

He didn't ask the question though; he didn't want to hurt Lia's feelings by mentioning out loud how much better her sister was than her. Instead he leapt onto the raised marble dais and began to shadow duel, imagining himself wiping the sneering grin off of Jack Harper's Slytherin face. The girls applauded politely when he finished his little display and he bowed with a flourish as he took in the standing ovation.

They did find a few other gems; Iris fell in love with the castle library as soon as she stepped through the heavy double doors. It was larger than the library at the estate and from the looks of it there were books that not even Hogwarts was old enough to have stocked though it was undeniable that Hogwarts still had the bigger library.

Liatris was thrilled by the workshop she found attached to the keep, it was an odd room full of what at first glance appeared to be tree stumps. It was only on closer inspection that the tree stumps actually revealed what they were; they were pedestals formed of all sorts of materials. Wood, iron, steel, some of varying alloys but it was easy enough to see that it had been designed for one of two things; wither one of the ancient Potters had been as into Transfiguration as Lia was, or someone had tried their hand at alchemy.

Such rooms were the exception however; for the most part the castle was filled with rooms full of cloth covered furniture that was buried under a thick carpet of dust. They had gone through a few of the rooms, examining them for hidden passages and trying to draw out any secrets they might have held but except for finding a few knuts in between the cushions of a loveseat, there hadn't been anything of note.

And so after a week or so of exploring the castle, the children had been left with nothing to do; or more specifically, Pollux had been left with nothing to do except for completing his summer assignments but in true Marauder fashion he would leave that until the last possible moment, much to his mother's consternation.

Which had left him with over two weeks to kill, and one can only spend so much time plotting pranks and riding a broom before they lose their luster (although you'd never think so when watching Iris on a broom, that girl was more at home with the birds than ever she was on her own two feet). In the end he had done the unthinkable, he had actually cracked open a book and read some; he had even done his Charms assignment on his own without asking for anyone's help with it.

Still he had been looking forward to this trip to Diagon Alley ever since his mother had arrived at the castle with a stack of envelopes marked with the Hogwarts seal and containing the list of supplies he would need for the coming year.

So now that he was on the familiar street, surrounded by unfamiliar people, he could barely contain his enthusiasm.

"For the love of Merlin, you'd swear we had him locked away in Azkaban!" His mother was saying with fond exasperation at his antics so he turned around and stuck his tongue out at her playfully, to which she narrowed her eyes; "Keep on like that and I'll turn you into a frog, it'd give you a reason to stick your tongue out." She warned but from the twinkle in her eye he knew she didn't mean it.

Still he put his tongue where it belonged (soundly behind his teeth) and with a half-feigned expression of fear muttered, "Scary!" before he darted to the front of the group of witches and began leading the way.

As was typical, the Lords Potter and Black were away on business, officially they were tracking down the escaped fugitives but from conversations he was not supposed to have overheard; there was very little progress on that front. There were no confirmed sightings of the Lestranges since their escape and Pettigrew himself had only the one confirmed sighting at the Potter Estate before he too had gone to ground.

This meant that the twelve year old was essentially the man of the house and he took that charge very seriously as his head rotated back and forth as though expecting Peter Pettigrew to jump out of the shadows at any moment. On the other hand he was also eagerly looking for his friends who had said they would meet him today before they met on the train next week.

Sarah rolled her eyes at her son's antics but watched him with fond exasperation as the boy with seemingly endless stores of energy lead their little group on their shopping expedition, she suspected that this would probably be one of the few times that he wouldn't complain if they spent the day shopping after being locked away from his friends all summer.

Sarah glanced over at Lily to see the other woman was doing her utmost to appear relaxed and serene as she watched her daughters walk the street but failing miserably as she constantly fidgeted with the sleeves of her robe, constantly reassuring herself that her wand was firmly in its holster and near at hand. Some of the passing witches and wizards were giving the auburn haired witch curious stares and a wide berth but Lily didn't seem to pay them any mind if she noticed them at all.

Sarah reached out and gently took the woman's arm in her own, drawing Lily's attention as the older witch gave her a curious stare. "Lily, you've got to calm down or you're going to work yourself into a panic attack. You heard what James said, the Ministry has positioned Aurors throughout the Alley to keep an eye out for Pettigrew and there are more here off duty. If you keep going for your wand every three seconds, you're going to draw some seriously unwanted attention."

Sarah spoke in a hushed voice that wouldn't carry and she kept a smile plastered on her face as she nodded her head at the passersby in greeting, looking at Lily once more she saw the woman giving her a look that said she wanted to argue but knew that the reporter was right.

With a tired sigh, Lily nodded her head and took a deep breath as she tried to relax and behave normally; she was just a mother taking her kids shopping for school supplies and there was nothing odd about that. Even if there was deranged psychopath that wanted to harm her or her children, he wouldn't dare to come to such a public place when there were so many people on the lookout for him.

'But what if he's using polyjuice to appear as someone else? What if he's using glamour charms to disguise himself? Or he might have transfigured himself so that he looks different?' Lily thought to herself as her eyes suddenly darted over the crowds, picking out those people who seemed to be sipping from containers or fretting over their appearance in the reflection of store fronts; her eyes narrowing dangerously as she took note of people who were taking interest in her daughters as they walked down the street ahead of her.

Sarah sighed as she noticed that Lily had gone from worried mother to hyper-alert war witch, which she supposed was an improvement as her companion was no longer a nervous wreck and more akin to a tightly wound cable that was ready to snap. Small steps.

She wondered if the war veteran would be relieved or more anxious once the kids had gone off to Hogwarts, the famous Scottish castle was known to have the most impressive wards in the country and the Headmaster was one of the strongest wizards in the world.

Surely Lily's paranoia would ease once the children were safely under Albus Dumbledore's supervision and hopefully by summer the fugitives would be caught and things would return to normalcy. On the other hand, being so far away from her children when there was at least one escaped criminal who seemed to have an interest in them probably wasn't good for her mental health.

But wasn't that the whole reason that Remus had been assigned as the Assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, not that the man wasn't qualified, if it weren't for his condition he probably be ranked right alongside James and Sirius as one of the Ministry's top Aurors. Still, Sarah couldn't help but wonder if it was wise to place Lupin in a position where he would be interfacing with children; on the one hand she could see the potential political benefit if things went well but if even one slip-up was made the entire situation would end badly.

From there position at the back of the group, Sarah saw her son stiffen slightly as though he had seen something that had surprised him and watched as he immediately trotted over to the display window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. 'Well that figures, doesn't it?' she thought to herself as the boy threw a look of pleading over his shoulder at her and she gave him a nod and a smile that he interpreted as permission to go inside.

With a wave of his hand, Pollux lead both of the Potter sisters in after him; thankful that they were fans of the game too (then again one was the best Seeker Hogwarts had ever seen and the both had been raised by Uncle Prongs). He was drawn to the shiny glass display case that had been erected towards the rear of the room in which was the brand new Firebolt series of brooms.

Pollux was tempted to press his face against the glass to get a better look at the brooms but resisted it on the basis that he didn't want to make a complete fool of himself in front of the Potters. Liatris drew up beside him as she examined the brooms in the display case and marveled at the craftsmanship that had gone into making it.

"The Firebolt is the fastest commercially available broom on the market, designed and produced by Randolph Spudmore this broom can go from naught to one hundred and fifty miles per hour which shows a nearly twenty percent increase in speed over the Nimbus 2001." Pollux and Liatris turned to look at a tall man with balding hair that was seemingly going soft around the middle based on the pronounced gut that was hiding by the leather apron he was wearing.

The man smiled broadly as he realized that he had the children's rapt attention as he approached the rear of the display and tapped it with his wand so that the rear glass panel swung open freely. He reached in and extracted one of the brooms and came back around to the two children, though his delight increased as he saw others in the store begin to migrate towards him for the little demonstration.

Holding the racing broom before him at chest level he released it and watched as the young boy reached out to try and grab it with a gasp of surprise only to watch in astonishment as the broom settled at just over knee height of the shop attendant. "You see, unlike the brooms before it the Firebolt hovers at a comfortable mounting height rather than requiring those silly 'up' commands that the Nimbus and Comets require. Spudmore has even taken the time to ensure that each of his quality products come with a Braking Charm that'll never fade or weaken with time.

"The Firebolt also boasts the best balance and precision of any racing broom on the market today, it can turn on a knut and make a dragon's head spin trying to keep up. The shaft is made from the finest ebony and the twigs can be made from birch or hazel, depending on customer preference; for those of you who like to ascend as quickly as possible the birch will provide extra oomph and you'll be the first one to get your head over the pitch. But if you're in tight and need the extra control and precision of deft maneuvering then hazel's the way to go."

The attendant had by this time gathered a rather sizable crowd around him now as most of the people in the store were fascinated by his presentation of the sleek Firebolt, he couldn't even make out the front of the store by now and he could only imagine how many galleons the crowd would be turning over to get their hands on one of the brooms. "The metal fixtures on this broom and made from goblin wrought ironwork so you can rest assure that the power and stability of this broom are second to none. And if you still aren't sold, the foot grips are of the non-slip variety."

His little joke had a small ripple of laughter going through the crowd and just as he was about to hit them with the sales price, the voice of two women came from the front of the store; their shouts making it impossible to hear what was actually yelled but the results were quite clear as the sound of an explosion ripped through the store and the resulting shockwave knocked the people at the rear of the crowd off their feet.

Dust filled the air and the shopkeeper pushed his way through his customers to see what was going on, at the entrance of the store were two witches with their wands drawn, aimed at a hole in the wall. In the middle of the aisle beside the hole in the wall was a young girl, in her Hogwarts years; she was pushing herself to her feet with far more calm than he would have been able to manage if he had just had two wands leveled at him.

The two witches advanced quickly, the one with auburn hair went to the girl and grabbed her gently by the shoulders, her voice was low but the concern was evident on her face. The girl was shaking her head in response to whatever the older woman was saying as he approached the pair, his demand to know what in Merlin's name was going on in his shop died in his throat as the blonde haired woman poked her head back into the shop through the gaping hole.

"Lils, it's not Pettigrew! But there's definitely something fishy, this guy's a muggle!" The woman called to her accomplice and the shopkeeper suddenly found his knees weak at the thought that a Death Eater plot had just been foiled, in his store no less. He was going to make a fortune!

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So like I said before a lot of things have developed since my last story update and a lot of you have been asking me if the story has been abandoned, to be clear; I am not abandoning this story. It's been an amazingly fun project and the reviews that you guys send me are phenomenal.

However the reason why things have slowed so dramatically is because I am currently undergoing treatment for cancer. At the beginning of June I was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma, a rare type of rare bone cancer; and unfortunately the whole process has been rather taxing as I've just gone through my third surgery.

I've got a long journey ahead of me and I'll write when I'm feeling up to it and when I have the energy. For now, please leave a review as any comments and critiques are always appreciated; if you have any questions feel free to send me a message and I'll get back to you.

**Next Chapter:**_ Return to Hogwarts_


	22. Chapter XIX

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **To those of you who have sent me messages and reviews with your well wishes and critiques, thank you so much for your kind words and insights. I cannot express how much it means to me to have your support and the interest that you've shown in this story. You are all amazing!

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XIX**

**North Webley, London, England**

Suburbia, the sanctuary of Muggles everywhere, with houses lining both sides of a narrow street; each attempting to separate itself from its neighbor by presenting a slightly nicer coat of paint or a louder door. The inhabitants striving for recognition as they went about their daily lives, grinding away at jobs that were dissatisfying and unfulfilling so they could ultimately buy some nice car or television set while raising their children in a cozy and safe environment.

Each and every one of them was miserable, some more so than others of course but all were miserable. Each one of them was begging for release from their routine and scheduled lives as they wished for something exciting to happen that would sweep them beyond the mundane trivialities and plop them in some kind of epic. They strained their ears listening for a call to action and never voiced anything beyond a desire for what was safe and expected.

Yet when what they craved so desperately entered into their lives it was not joy and gladness that stole their breath away but terror and fright. How could it not be? People were ill adapted to accepting the strange, not when for so many years they had grown accustomed to the very sameness they sought release from.

So when a dirty and ill looking man burst into their home waving a stick about and speaking nonsensically it made sense that the inhabitants of the home scurried away from him and screamed. How their reaction was to call for their authorities or bolt for the door as they sought the safety from familiar surroundings and clung to the notion that their suburb was safe; that murder and robbery didn't happen there and it was just some drunk who had wondered into their backyard who was causing the mayhem in their lives.

Peter snorted with disdain as he looked at the family of Muggles who were assembled before him, seated on a comfortable leather couch in front of a decently sized television set in what was a comfortable and otherwise unremarkable home. Much how the inhabitants themselves were really, comely but otherwise unremarkable; there were four of them, the man and lady of the house along with their two teenage children.

'How pathetic they are,' he remarked to himself as he watched how they huddled together and trembled in fear. How they disgusted him, so full of their own conceit as they viewed themselves as the apex beings of their world; not even aware that before him they were little more than sheep. In time they would be domesticated, brought to heel to serve beneath their betters.

But that was for Muggles as a whole; today they would serve him as they were always meant to. Raising his wand, Pettigrew smiled to himself as he felt the hum of his magic as it surged through him in answer to his call; more than anything else in Azkaban it was the absence of magic that he had missed the most. Through the haze of euphoria, the wizard performed the delicate wave and flick as he intoned the Imperius Curse over and over and over and over again until four dull eyed and blank faces stared up at him.

"Come along little lambs, there is someone we must see. I've a message to give her and it is oh so imperative that she hear it." Peter cooed to his thralls with a cruel sneer of derision contorting his face as he herded the family out of their home and into their brand new BMW.

"Now by a show of hands, who would like to take a little shopping trip?" Peter asked after he finished making himself comfortable in the passenger seat, he feigned the look of surprise as he saw the family unanimously vote to go. "Oh very well then, you've won me over." Pettigrew exclaimed gleefully as the car's engine roared to life and they sped off towards London proper.

"Now James, I hope you don't mind if I call you James seeing as I didn't catch your name…" Peter waited a moment for the man to give a nod of assent, "Why thank you James, anyway as I was saying; there's a young girl whose acquaintance you'll be eager to meet. I've a message for her, well more of a warning really; though I'm of the opinion that she knows full well what you're going to pass along for me."

Peter rambled on as the BMW cruised along the motorway, weaving through traffic but never exceeding the speed limit; "Admittedly, the last time I saw the girl was brief; I blame her mother for that, the woman is far to overprotective. It's got to be a stifling environment, you can't give the kid room to grow when you're looming over them and fretting every time the kid skins her knee. But what do I know? I've been in prison for the last twelve years so maybe what's considered good parenting has changed since I last read Madam Majora's Guide to Raising Witches and Wizards."

Peter twisted in his seat and looked back at the blank faced mother sitting in the back row in between her two children, utterly powerless to usurp the absolute control he had over her. It was an exhilarating rush to have such power over someone, "Not to worry Lily, I don't hold it against you seeing as you've always been something of a mother hen. I suppose that's why James was so attracted to you; his parents were so old they were more doting grandparents than anything else. But you, the goody-two-shoes who could do no wrong and never stepping one toe out of line, you would pontificate and bluster every time he broke the rules or flicked your pet snake."

Pettigrew smirked as spittle landed on the woman's face from his vitriol, he waited to see if she could summon enough will to wipe it from her cheek and crowed madly when for all the disgust she must feel, she couldn't even lift a finger. "Ah where was I, oh yes, Iris; I forgot to mention James the girl's name is Iris. But you knew that didn't you, she's your daughter after all; it's really quite pitiful. You should be ashamed of yourself man, so consumed with your work and trying to find me you've all but stopped seeing your daughters.

"I wonder when was the last time you really sat down and had a chat with either of them? Or just played a round of exploding snap? Or offered to help them with their summer homework? Not to mention how absolutely oblivious you are! I mean really, James Potter, protégé to Albus Dumbledore and trained by Mad-Eye Moody himself, bane to the Dark Wizards of the British Isles and you can't even see that your eldest daughter is practically hemorrhaging magic!" Peter was smirking superiorly to the man now and he barked his grievances with all the vindictive glee he could muster.

"I'm utterly unsuprised at that by the way, you could never see greatness. You shared that trait with Remus and Sirius, all of you too blinded by the majesty of that insane old man to see what was staring you all right in the face. We were losing the war! The Prewitts, the McKinnons, Dalton, Lyle and Davis; they were all dead. So of course I joined the Dark Lords!

"Did you think Dumbledore's hand ringing was going to accomplish anything? When the Dark Lords struck in the middle of the night and pulled the Muggleborns out of their beds and made them execute their families, did your leader save them? Did he allow us to go after the Malfoys, or the Lestranges or any of those Death Eaters we knew were committing the attacks?

"No! Because that would be too monstrous! We could not allow ourselves to lose our humanity because if we sacrificed our morality for victory then the Dark Lords would have won! And you all swallowed that rubbish like it was honeyed tea! None of you even questioned the prophecy when he told you there was one, you just nodded your heads and then went into hiding with your tails tucked between your legs! When I begged you to flee the country, to go into hiding where the Dark Lords could never find you, what was you said James?

"You wouldn't flee your country and concede it to some upstart terrorist! The Dark Lord had bloody well marked your daughter for death you sanctimonious prick! So I sold out the Longbottoms! I gave up their son so that Iris would be spared! So that you and Lily would be spared! And then you hunted me and betrayed me and imprisoned me! Me! The man who saved your life!" Pettigrew was furiously screaming at the driver, at some point during his tirade he had drawn his wand and was pressing it dangerously into the man's neck such that the flesh was bulging around it.

Peter took a few deep breaths, forcibly calming himself down as he leaned back into his seat and straightened the stained and disgusting rags he wore. "I forgave you all that James, I understand that you were just doing your job. Doing what you had to do just as I had. In fact, I was going to leave after I saw you and the kids one last time. I was going to disappear to Singapore or China, just vanish and you'd never hear from or see me again.

"But then I saw Iris! You never could see greatness James, not the way I could. For all your talent and strength and charisma, you can't see that your daughter is everything you were but better. Maybe it's because you've only ever been in the presence of Dumbledore, but I've bowed and humbled myself before three of the most powerful wizards in the world and she is just like them.

"I who was in her presence for all of a moment can see the Lady that is sleeping under your roof and you haven't even guessed at it yet. That I cannot forgive James. You have failed in your duty as a father, so blinded are you by chasing after me and the Lestranges and so loyal to Dumbledore you don't even see that he is the real threat. Him and Voldemort! So I will do what you can't James, I'll protect her, I'll defend her, I'll do what you can't. Just as I've always done." Peter lapsed into silence, his fury sated for the time being as he had expelled the thoughts that had gnawed at him for years while he was in Azkaban.

He knew of course that these two Muggles weren't James and Lily, that they were not responsible for his years of tortured imprisonment nor were they responsible for so grievously neglecting Iris, who they didn't even know. He was certainly certifiably mad, but he was not so far gone as to confuse these pitiful slack faced creatures for his former friends.

"When we arrive at our destination James, you'll have a very special task to perform. A girl, Iris, will show up before very long; she's thirteen with long black hair and startling green eyes. She'll be in the company of a woman with red hair and similar green eyes as well as a girl a year younger than she, with hazel eyes and red hair like the woman's. She might be in the company of others so you're to keep a close watch on everyone who enters the establishment.

"Your job is simple, you will follow that girl and when she is alone you will go to her and deliver a message to her. Under no circumstances are you to let her go without delivering the entire message. You will tell her that 'Uncle Wormtail sends his regards and wishes you a belated happy birthday. He apologizes for having to leave the celebration so quickly but he had pressing matters to attend to and forgot to leave a gift so here are some words of advice.

"Bumblebees are attracted to potent flowers and find when they have sweet nectar, want to keep them all for themselves; beware the Bumblebee whose sting is subtle and toxin strong. Likewise, Riddles are hard to solve when it's only half of it that you know, you can learn much by knowing where it's traveled and when it pops back up." Pettigrew smiled at the obfuscation as thinly veiled as it was, anyone who heard it that didn't know the meaning would think it all gibberish.

"Let her know that I'll see her this winter if all holds well. And James, when you're being questioned by the authorities; remember that I've still got your lovely family; if I so much as think that you're cooperating with them, you'll get them back … one piece at a time." Pettigrew smiled at the Muggle as they pulled up in front of the Leaky Cauldron and he prompted the man to leave the vehicle, exercising his will; the wizard steered his thrall into the magical pub that was otherwise invisible to Muggles.

Once 'James' was out of sight, Peter turned to look at his three remaining hostages who were sitting in the back of the sleek BMW. "So, who's up for a drive to Scotland?"

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><p><strong>Hogwarts Express, Unknown Location, England<strong>

'Damn that little chit!' Draco thought furiously as he stormed along the Hogwarts Express, the small jolts of the scarlet engine as it raced along its tracks barely fazing him as the rolling countryside was reduced to a green blur. He paid little attention to the scenery as he shouldered his way through the corridor of the locomotive earning himself angry glares from students though he couldn't be bothered to notice them either.

The only time he even slowed his stride was when Percy Weasley brazenly planted himself in his path, pushing out his chest to display the gold badge on his chest that marked him as Head Boy. The elder boy's face was screwed up in indignation and he puffed out his chest even further as he prepared to give the blond a dressing down for his unseemly behavior.

He never got the chance as Draco swiftly sidestepped him and didn't bother to turn around as he heard the boy's cry of "Oi!" as he was utterly disregarded, but he did allow himself a smirk of satisfaction at the hiss of pain that came from the gangly redhead as Grabbe shouldered past the teen and knocked him in the hip with one of the trunks he was carrying.

As he approached the very last compartment on the train the pureblood slowed his pace and visibly composed himself as he took a fortifying breath and straightened his impeccable robes. He threw a glance over his shoulder and affixed a quelling sneer on his face as he waited for Grabbe and Goyle to catch up to him, the former breathing heavily as he had tried his best to match Draco's pace while carrying both of their heavy trunks.

"Allow no one into this compartment until I tell you otherwise! Understand?" Draco ordered them quietly as he took the handle of his trunk from Grabbe, he waited for them both to nod at him before he slid open the door to the compartment and marched in with all of the pomp he could muster, the wooden door sliding shut behind him with a soft click.

Stormy grey eyes roved over the occupants of the room as he sought out his quarry, noting Daphne and Hermione to his left as the witches were arguing over their History of Magic summer assignment while the back of the compartment was given over to the youngest of their posse.

Astoria Greengrass was just as beautiful as her sister was with lustrous golden blonde hair that cascaded about her shoulders and framed a heart-shaped face. She was possessed of the classic Norman beauty, high sloping cheekbones that gave her the look of a lingering smile which accentuated her plush lips and angular jawline. Her bright blue eyes and the slightly upturned nose gave the fair skinned girl an air of delicate fragility and innocence.

It was well-known amongst pureblood circles that the girl was quite the talented musician, there had been much speculation over the summer as the families gossiped over whether or not Lady Claire would be sending the girl to Beuxbatons for her education. Hogwarts was the pride of the British magical community but it was well established that the French institution had a reputation for drawing the artistically inclined.

His eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze fell upon Liatris next, the auburn haired witch was trying to lure the shy blonde into conversation by telling her all about Hogwarts and how wonderful the school was. His ire must have been palpable because she turned her head and met his frosty glare with a very confused face though she seemed to understand when she saw the rolled up newspaper in his hand.

The young Greengrass turned her head to follow her friend's gaze and saw Draco looming in the doorway with a very peeved look on his face. The shy girl looked worriedly between him and her friend as they seemed to be having a silent conversation before looking over the bubbly witch's shoulder to Pollux Black.

The young blonde didn't know what she had done to the dark-haired boy but it was evident that he didn't like her at all, from the moment that she had stepped into the compartment with her sister the boy had given her a reception that while polite was certainly devoid of any warmth. He had done his utmost since then to pretend that she didn't exist but feeling the weight of her azure eyes he turned his own silver eyes to meet her and gave a simple shake of his head before he tilted his head towards the last two occupants of the room.

Blaise and Iris looked very cozy on the last leg of the U shaped bench that filled the compartment, the tawny skinned Italian was tucked into the corner beside the window with his left leg bent so that his knee was nearly to his chest; his left arm braced against it as he had an open book dangling from his fingertips.

Stretched out beside him was Iris, her head resting comfortably on her friend's right thigh with her hair making an inky puddle in the boy's lap; which Blaise didn't seem to mind as he idly carded his fingers through the raven locks. She had an arm draped over her eyes and her chest was rising in slow deep breaths, either asleep or in a very good imitation of it.

Astoria didn't understand what was going on, her sister's letters had said that her group of friends was very tightly knit together and that she would find herself easily welcomed among them. Indeed, with the exception of Pollux her presence hadn't even been questioned and if one was a stranger to the group it would seem as though she had been with them for years. It was almost disturbing really to see complete strangers acting absolutely at ease with her presence when she herself felt like an intruder.

Even now as Liatris's sudden silence attracted the notice of the Third year students and drew their stares so that they were watching the silent duel between the irate Malfoy heir and the witch with rust colored hair, there was dichotomous sense of easy familiarity that disregarded the mounting tension in the air.

Whatever conversation was going on between the two it seemed that it had somehow amounted to a draw as he cocked an eyebrow while Liatris copied Pollux's move from earlier and nodded her head to her sister. The silvery blond smirked, an expression that seemed like it was very familiar for him, at that and a certain gleam entered his eye the spoke of relish as he turned towards the sleeping girl.

He flashed a traitorous glare at Blaise when the golden-eyed wizard nudged Iris and plucked the girl's arm off her face with a firm gentleness as she stirred. For the second time Astoria was taken by surprise by the older girl's eyes, a startlingly vibrant shade of emerald green with flecks of gold and all the while they seemed to glow as though they were lit by some kind of inner light.

Iris blinked a few times as she returned to the world of the living and peered up at her pillow with a look of mild consternation at having her sleep foiled before the boy jerked his chin at Draco and the girl followed the motion to stare at the reason for her interrupted nap. Whatever she found in the boy's gaze caused her to loose an aggrieved sigh and she sat up and swiveled so that she was facing the boy.

Draco didn't waste any time as he glared down at the girl from his standing position while she yawned tiredly into a fist, "Why is it dear sweet cousin that mortal peril seems to follow you like lost puppy?" the teen asked with cloying sweetness as he brandished the newspaper in his hand like some kind of club.

"Really Draco, that's a bit of an exaggeration." Iris retorted as she brushed his concerns aside nonchalantly which seemed to irk the boy as he raised his hand and began to tick all of the attempts on her life, "A troll, the Philosopher's Stone, a cursed bludger, the Trial, a bloody chimera, Pettigrew and presumably Pettigrew again!"

Iris winced as he finished the tally and acknowledged that that was only what they knew, the fact that she had been in mortal peril from the Ring of Obedience for over a year and that she had been momentarily possessed by Grindelwald as well as having dueled that Dark Lord's horcrux, "Well when you put it that way, yeah I guess I am a magnet for trouble." She conceded with a shrug, it wasn't like this was a new revelation to her after all.

"It's fine and all that you've come to accept that someone obviously wants you dead but what irks me is that I learn about it from the bloody Daily Prophet and the only thing you bother to tell me is that you're fine and you'll explain on the train!" Draco, to his credit, managed to keep his voice level as he was obviously frustrated at having been kept in the dark and that he had been fretting for nearly a week to find the girl sleeping comfortably as though there was nothing wrong.

Astoria couldn't help but blink in surprise at the litany of attempts on Iris's life while she had been at Hogwarts, what her parents had said was the safest place in magical Britannia. She wasn't surprised that Iris had gotten hurt playing Quidditch as it was an incredibly violent and dangerous sport and news about the reemergence of the Trial last year had been a major concern for parents. That it had progressed to the point that Dumbledore had been temporarily suspended from his position as Headmaster had come as quite a shock to them.

But all of the previous events, barring the mention of Pettigrew, she hadn't even known had occurred in Hogwarts. 'How did a troll find its way into Hogwarts to attack a student? And what did the Philosopher's Stone have to do with Iris being in mortal peril?' Astoria wondered as she stared at the older girl and seriously considered if she wanted to be in the same compartment let alone school with the girl.

The young witch was pulled out of her thoughts as her sister cleared her throat and attracted most everyone's attention save for the two 'cousins' who were staring fiercely at each other, "If you're quite done Draco maybe you could climb out of her throat long enough to let her explain what exactly it is she wanted to share." Daphne didn't try to hide the fond if somewhat exasperated smile that had made its way onto her face at her friends' antics.

Draco flushed ('prettily,' Astoria thought) though his embarrassment at what was obviously a departure from his normal air of cool superiority didn't stop him from glaring pointedly at Iris as he wore his justifiably indignant expression while he elegantly took a seat beside the raven haired witch.

In fact everyone in the compartment had turned their attention on Iris, Astoria noticed, even Pollux and Liatris had their eye riveted to the Potter heiress as though the information she was going to share was fresh and new to them as well as everyone else. For a moment the girl thought that witch had somehow cast a spell that had bewitched everyone in the compartment but she could plainly see that there wasn't a wand in Iris's hand nor was the older witch of an age to have started learning nonverbal incantations.

It was startlingly eerie how the emerald eyed witch managed to command such focus from everyone just by straightening in her seat and preparing to speak but even Astoria had to admit that when the girl starting speaking it was hard to take notice of anything else but that was mostly because she hadn't experienced anything like was being told.

After the incident at Iris's birthday celebrations the extended Potter-Black-Lupin family had gone into hiding behind wards so powerful that anybody who crossed them while so much as wishing the family any ill will would be smote by the full power of the enchantments. The minors had resided there for three weeks without being able to so much as step foot beyond the wards and had made their trip to Diagon Alley only after the Auror office secured a Portkey and doubled their usual patrol of the area.

Astoria thought that quite a lot of favors had probably been called in to secure those extra patrols though the portkey would have been easy to arrange, it was one of the primary means the Ministry had to fill its coffers.

In the end, none of it had mattered since as soon as the family had made it to Diagon Alley they were tagged and followed by a dark-haired middle-aged man. Of course because the man had been dressed in Muggle clothes he had escaped notice, which Astoria knew was a polite way to say the man was deliberately ignored by just about everyone with a wand, and had been presumed to be the parent of a Muggleborn child.

It hadn't even looked peculiar that he had followed the teens into the Quidditch store seeing as how many children were usually in there admiring the brooms and as well as the memorabilia of famous players up on the walls. So when the store owner had started going on about the Firebolt that was being displayed in his shop, no one paid any notice to the muggle man who disappeared behind the shelves where the broom maintenance kits were stocked as he followed Iris.

"The man, I never learned what his name, he grabbed me when I was in the corner of the shop. I thought the guy had made an honest mistake, confused me for his daughter or something but when I turned to face him he … his eyes …" Iris's voice trembled for a moment as she recounted the events, though Astoria didn't know whether it was fear or anger that caused the girl's voice to shake.

Iris took a breath to steady herself, not noticing the ghost of a puff as she exhaled while she pressed on, the memory vivid in her mind. "The man's eyes were strange somehow … empty. Dad says it's one of the signs that a person is under the Imperius Curse but it's subtle, hard to catch unless you're face to face with someone under the curse.

"He spoke to me then, at first I thought it was some kind of deranged nonsense but now that we know it was Pettigrew that put him under; I think it was a warning." The girl nodded to herself as she watched the man repeat Pettigrew's words in her mind's eye.

"Don't you mean a threat?" Daphne's voice cut through Iris's ruminations, skepticism and concern playing across her face; not that anyone could blame her considering that one of her best friends had essentially stated that an escaped felon was trying to watch out for her when he should by all accounts want to see her in a pine box.

"No, Pettigrew has gone out of his way to prove that he can get to me but he hasn't made a move to harm me. I'm not sure what his intentions are but it seems pretty clear that he doesn't want me as his enemy, so this was a warning; he wants me to watch my back." Iris replied with a dismissive hand wave, but what exactly she should be watching out for she didn't say.

That omission went unnoticed by the others but certain facts still had to be accounted for such as, "What about the explosion the Prophet reported on? They're blaming your mother and 'aunt' for the damage to the store." Draco prompted as he wanted to get the full explanation of what happened.

No one expected Iris to blush and grin sheepishly at the question, "Well, it's certainly true that the House of Potter is paying for some of the damages but not because of Mom or Aunt Sarah. That explosion was … sort of … my fault. Y'know, accidental magic."

Astoria blinked in stunned surprise, again, not that anyone could have blamed her for her shocked reaction after all it wasn't everyday someone heard about a thirteen year old having a bout of accidental magic potent enough to manifest as an explosion that had from all accounts torn down the store's protective warding and left a gaping hole.

Quite frankly, it was terrifying! Not four meters from her was a girl that by accident (despite the trying circumstances of the situation) managed to accomplish a feat that was being attributed to two full grown and rather talented witches. The young girl looked around at the others in the compartment and wondered why any of them were still in the compartment with the Potter heiress? Friend or not, that kind of magical strength should not lie in the hands of a hormonal teenager.

Everyone knew that accidental magic was tied heavily to emotions, so what could happen if Iris was frightened at Hogwarts like she was at Quality Quidditch Supplies? Or what if someone angered her or embarrassed her? If the girl could rip through a wall despite wards, what could stop her from blasting a student to smithereens? The very thought of it was enough to send a shiver down Astoria's back and put a chill in her blood.

It wasn't until she looked over at her sister that she noticed she wasn't the only one shivering, in fact most of them in the room were trembling slightly and steamy puffs of breath hung in the air. The very glass had frozen over though it didn't stop the boys from peering out of them as best they could.

The sudden screech of brakes being applied and the heavy jolt of the train rapidly decelerating nearly tossed the boys from their kneeling perches though hands shot out to steady them before they fell from the benches to the floor. What in the world was going on?

"There's no way we're at Hogwarts yet, the message to change into school robes hasn't come down yet." Hermione stated matter-of-factly as she too rose from her seat and peered into the gloomy twilight through the frosted windows while she hugged her arms to herself.

"There's something moving out there. You reckon it's –" Pollux was cut off as a skeletal hand appeared on the glass window, startling him and prompting all of the compartment's occupants to slide over to the other side of the train car away from the window.

"Dementors, definitely, Papa warned us that they might not play by the rules." Astoria's neck nearly seized as she whipped her head around to stare at Liatris in disbelief, noticing that the girl didn't seem all that perturbed by the situation though there was a certain haunted look to her eye. In fact neither of the Potters nor Pollux seemed all that surprised by the sudden appearance of the guards of Azkaban.

"What do mean dementors not playing by the rules? Why are they here at all?" She asked in a shaky voice, everyone knew that Dementors were under the thumb of the Ministry and that they had to obey the orders of those who commanded them. Didn't they?

"There were safety concerns raised about a couple of escaped Death Eaters potentially attempting to attack the families of Ministry personnel." Iris stated casually as she drew her wand with a flick of her wrist and strode to the door to the compartment, sliding the panel open she ushered Draco's bodyguards inside and directed them to a corner while she slid the door shut and threw the strongest locking charm she knew at the door.

Astoria watched as the Gryffindor Seeker backed into the room and purposefully took a position that placed her in between the door and the rest of the room's occupants. The young girl wondered if that was a wise decision, though even as the question flitted through her mind she didn't know if it was about Iris's defensive posture or that she was trusting a frighteningly powerful witch to protect her from a threat that a thirteen year old most certainly couldn't know how to face.

'On the other hand, I'm positive she was fully briefed and trained on how to fight trolls and chimeras too.' Astoria shook her head at her own sarcasm with a soft snort of derision that caught Liatris's attention. The auburn haired girl looked at her friend and cocked an eyebrow curiously to which the younger mouthed 'Later' and returned her attention to the cabin door.

The sound of panicked and shocked shouts echoed down the length of the stopped train as the overhead lighting began to flicker before it was extinguished, leaving the locomotive in abject darkness save for the starlight that managed to sneak itself aboard through the frosted over panes of glass.

There were more cries echoing down the length of the scarlet engine now, horror and fear and in some cases sobs; all the while the air became colder. Blaise and Draco set about casting warming charms but the spells held out for mere seconds before the unnatural cold returned. A sense of dread stole over Astoria as the lights began to flicker erratically in the compartment, as if they too were fighting trying to fight off the oppressive atmosphere but try as they might the light died and plunged them into darkness.

She startled as something brushed across up her back but relaxed as she was wrapped up in the familiar arms of her elder sister; she peered over her shoulder at Daphne and took in the girl's reassuring smile. If it seemed forced, Astoria willfully ignored it and didn't let it dissuade her from taking some comfort in it.

Her self-delusions were cut short when the cold intensified, the air became painful to breath and Astoria covered her face with the fabric of her robe to protect herself from the harshness of it while her eyes watched as ice crystals slowly bloomed on the _inside _of the windows. She could hear the Dementor as it drew closer; raspy, guttural breathing just beyond the door to their compartment.

They watched the door handle rattle as the creature tried to gain entry, for several long moments it was the only sound that filled the silence that had settled on the train before a shrill screech split the air painfully and forced those within the compartment to cover their ears against the terrible sound.

The children could feel them gathering in the early darkness beneath heavy black clouds that were unleashing torrents of frigid rain. It was hard to discern anything through the deluge and ice but there was no mistaking the penetrating gloom as memories best left forgotten clawed their way through their minds, a cold far more biting than the physical chill settled over them as happiness and hope seemed to slip away.

Iris shuddered under the assault as she wrestled with two lifetime's worth of memories, she could feel the smooth granite of headstones under her fingers as the faces of dead friends ran through her mind. Colin's broken body, Lavender's too-pale face speckled with blood, Snape slumped against a wall with veins blackened with poison. The cool granite was replaced with another sensation, hot and wet and the scent of copper filled her nose as she remembered Quirrel's limp form lying in a pool of his own blood.

Iris squeezed her eyes shut against the memories and summoned up the limited Occlumency that she possessed and ruthlessly marshalled her own mind, forcing the memories away back to the shadowy recesses of her mind and smothering her emotions as she seized hold of the unperturbed calm that descended upon her.

She opened her vibrant green eyes to see that her friends were all pale and shaking, each to varying degrees of distress as their own worst memories swam about their minds, threatening to drown them with misery and despair. Iris felt a muted horror at the situation and a dim sense of anger at the creatures causing this, emotions that she would surely have to deal with later but at the moment she had more pressing matters to deal with than her own outrage.

Her sister was suffering, her friends were suffering, and undoubtedly there were others aboard the train who were suffering as well. The solution to the problem was simple, if not exactly easy, as Iris knew that she was capable of performing the Patronus Charm and powerful enough to send the dozen or so present fleeing. But how then to explain how a thirteen year old managed to perform a spell that was taught to Seventh Year students and how a meager few actually managed to perform?

Easy enough to explain how she came upon it, her father an Auror, her godfather an Auror, her honorary uncle teaching Defense, and she a known bookworm. It would have taken one mention and she would have gone searching for the answer (if she hadn't already known it). That wouldn't explain the how she could perform it though and she was leery of mentioning Riddle's private tutoring, she was doubtless that he'd verify her statement but he was likely to pry more than any Aurors would.

And of course she couldn't admit to being infused with the soul of dimensionally displaced alternate version of herself and having acquired all of or at least a majority of his knowledge and skills. That was just crazy talk.

Still, she had to do something to stop the Dementors and she knew herself well enough to know that she wasn't much for planned action; she lived of sheer impetuousness and audacity. So what could she do that she could get away with? Moving to the center of the compartment she braced herself in front of the door and with a practiced flick, felt the polished wood of her wand slide into her; warm to her touch and eager to aid her.

As it turned out, Iris never had to make a decision because as she was taking her position a team of Aurors were arriving, their cracks of Apparition lost to the pouring rain. No sooner did they arrive then they noticed why they had been summoned in the first place as a small horde of black wraiths were gathered around the final compartment of the Hogwarts Express. The black cloaked monstrosities were filling the air with their rattling breaths and they could feel the cold from where they stood assembled a bare fifty meters from the track; the soaked ground was covered in a film of ice that cracked under their boots as they approached and spread out.

The group of ten waited for the lieutenant to raise his wand before they followed suit and from them burst an assortment of creatures, both exotic and mundane, all aglow with a brilliant radiance as they covered the distance between their lines. The Dementors took notice of the guardian animals and with shrieks of outrage they scattered away from the train car and ascended up into the heavy clouds above. They did not retreat though, even as the Patronuses surrounded them and forced them to shrink back against one another; their flesh of their rotted and scabbed hands smoking as the bright light illuminated them.

"Why aren't they leaving?" One of the younger men on the team yelled out over the sound of the rain, his confusion evident in his voice as he watched the Azkaban guards' strange behavior. The lieutenant had no answer for him as he had never seen the wraiths act in such a manner before, it was almost as if they were waiting for something or someone and willing to endure a great amount of pain for it too.

There was a blast of light from inside the train and the Aurors immediately pivoted and brought their wands to bear on the what was transpiring in time to see one of the frosted over train windows explode outwards and a Dementor that was bigger than its brethren burst out while being chased by another Patronus.

The new Dementor ascended straight upwards, towards the rain clouds above and the rest followed after it as quickly as they could to escape the Paronuses. It didn't take very long after that for the pervading chill to dissipate and for the darkness to lighten somewhat leave only the natural coolness and shade that arrived with a torrential downpour.

The Aurors canceled their spells and watched as the proud spirit animals faded away save for the great big wolf that was sitting atop the train like some guard dog as it peered unwaveringly up at the clouds where the foul wraiths had disappeared.

Lieutenant Sanderson shook his head at the whole mess as he gave orders to his men to search the train and reassure its occupants that the situation was well in hand, he took two of his more experienced Aurors and headed for the last car where the Dementors had been concentrating on. He kept his wand drawn as he climbed aboard the scarlet locomotive and headed straight for the last compartment with his subordinates in tow.

He wasn't sure what to expect, the jailors of Azkaban were talented at suppressing prison inmates but to search out escapees or act as the guardians of a school; it smacked of bad decision making. Every Auror trainee had to do a rotation on Azkaban and it was a depressing and emotionally draining month on the bleak grey and weather beaten island, even the normal contingent of guards who worked there were on three week on – two week off protocol with regular psych evaluations every 6 months. How a bunch of kids were supposed to handle ten months with Dementors lurking just out of sight was beyond him.

Still, it wasn't his job to write policy and as much as it rankled him he had to admit there was good reason for it, the Lestranges were a dangerous lot and needed to be apprehended before they could cause serious damage. The odds of them coming to Hogwarts was remote but with the Boy Who Lived attending school there certain security protocols had to be enforced.

He shook his head wearily at all the bureaucracy but schooled his expression as he entered the compartment warily but expectedly all he saw were a bunch of shaken schoolchildren being handed chocolate by a nondescript man of middling height, there were a few grey hairs mixed in with his light brown hair and his face was lined with thin scars. The man was talking in hushed tones with a young girl, about thirteen or so with wild black hair and vibrant green eyes. She was visibly upset and was muttering angrily as she helped hand out the chocolate to her peers.

It struck Sanderson as odd as she took a seat besides the other students and comforted them as best she could, he recognized her immediately of course; he had seen both Iris and Liatris Potter at the Auror's Ball on several occasions and had read the reports involving her involvement in the Pettigrew Case. By all accounts she should have been the most affected of the students in the compartment by the Dementors's presence but it seemed that the reverse was true. It was all very curious.

Sanderson cleared his throat softly to get their attention and was surprised yet again how the compartment's occupants started at his announced presence; save for the man and the Potter heiress. In fact, the teen girl didn't spare him more than a glance before returning her attention to the children; the man however turned to face the Aurors directly and he suddenly seemed far more imposing than he had a moment ago at his fatherly disposition seemed to evaporate and his face set in angry glower.

He ushered Sanderson and his men out of the compartment and back into the hallway before drawing his wand (with deliberate slowness) and erecting a privacy ward around them. The brown eyed lieutenant raised an eyebrow but the man simply shrugged and jerked his chin at the curious faces of students peering out of their compartments at the soaking wet Aurors in their brown leather trench coats.

"I'm Lieutenant Sanderson and my colleagues Aurors Cook and Pressfield, we have some questions regarding what exactly happened this evening, Mister?" Sanderson took charge of the conversation seeing as how the man before him didn't seem particularly eager to start things off after putting his wand back inside his robe pocket.

"Professor Lupin, Remus J. As for what happened tonight, I'd say that the Ministry's Dementors out of hand and decided to make something of a nuisance of themselves. An incident that I'm going to ensure doesn't happen again." Remus growled out as he looked at the broken window that was the only evidence of the attack that had befallen his nieces with a malevolent intensity.

The lieutenant had the impression that Lupin was speaking quite candidly, though how he was going to stop the Dementors from repeating this kind of incident was beyond the Auror but that was beside the point. He needed to know what had drawn down the wrath of the creatures onto those children and he asked as much of the Professor.

"I ask myself the same question and the only thing I can tell you is that when I drove the Dementor off and went to check on the students the door was locked with a powerful charm. I'm assuming that the blasted thing couldn't get in and when it couldn't it decided to throw a very nasty hissy fit at being denied entrance. If you want anything more, you'll have to ask the students but I'll remind you that such an interview will have to be arranged through their Heads of House and as they're all minors their guardians will have to present as well." Lupin's grin at throwing the rulebook at them was nothing short of predatory, undoubtedly he knew who each of those students parents were and could likely predict their level of enthusiasm at being summoned for that meeting.

Sanderson sighed mentally at all the paperwork he was going to have to go through for those interviews and knew that it would probably be for nothing since the students had looked too shell-shocked to have any strong recollections of the incident; except for that Iris girl but knowing Captain Potter, there was no way he was going to consent to either of his girls being questioned after what they had just gone through.

"Very well Professor, we'll clear off and get this train moving again. Hopefully there won't be any more … incidents … this evening." The brown eyed Auror offered as he made a small slashing motion with his wand to dispel the privacy ward, motioning to the other uniformed men behind him; Sanderson led the way back off the train and glanced down the length of the scarlet locomotive at one of his men standing by the engineer's car and gave the man the all clear signal.

After that the train was once more underway and speeding along towards Hogsmeade leaving the gathered Aurors to Disapparate away from the scene. Sanderson waited until the crimson locomotive was out of sight before he too vanished with a crack.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland, UK<strong>

The rest of the train ride passed without incident though there was a minor bout of good natured bickering over who got to stay in the compartment to change into their robes and uniforms first that the girls won. Iris had long since conquered her modesty after years of Quidditch locker rooms and was quick to strip out of her jeans and tank top to don the boring short sleeved blouse and grey jumper-skirt ensemble under her open front robes.

They group disembarked from the train carrying with them their trunks which were set down on Hogsmeade's train platform under thankfully drier conditions, the storm it seemed had not followed after them though there was a definite tension in the air that harkened to a storm of another sort. Iris could already see the way that some of the students were glancing at her and her friends as they whispered behind their hands.

It was inevitable of course, Dementors attacking students was going to get talked about and she had no doubt that a few students would even be sending letters home about it so there was sure to be an article in the Prophet about it that would stir up some controversy. It didn't change the relief the green eyed witch felt as she clambered up into one of the Thestral drawn carriages after parting with Astoria and slipped out of sight of the student body.

Their group had piled into one carriage, minus Liatris and Pollux who had decided to join some of their own friends, so the confines were slightly cramped with the five of them but not so much as to be uncomfortable. They remained conspicuously quiet as the carriage bounced and jostled its way through Hogsmeade's deserted streets and up the road to the castle, each lost in their own troubled thoughts.

Iris could appreciate that as her own thoughts were heavy with concerns of her own, Pettigrew's warning still fresh in her mind. She had long since ceased to trust Dumbledore, for all the man's good intentions he coveted his secrets and believed his methods the only way to fight against the Darkness. Her experiences alone had left a burning hatred for his manipulations and the knowledge that he would keep coming after her until he had acquired her as a weapon for his cause.

Grindelwald had said as much when he had tried to recruit her as his own apprentice and while she was loathe to take the man at his word, he had been nothing but honest with her even in his hostility.

So she was stuck in between two titans of magic and their chess match for the future; pawn, knight … queen, whatever the role they had for her in their strategies she ill-favored being controlled by anyone. But Pettigrew's warning had warned her of another player and admittedly the thought had crossed her mind before, Professor Riddle was an enigma to her.

The man was over sixty years old but he hadn't aged a day over thirty, he was renowned as a powerful wizard; probably the equal to Dumbledore himself in terms of magical strength if not knowledge. But where did his allegiance lie?

She didn't think that it was with Dumbledore, she had seen the way he had lounged in the old man's throne when he had been suspended and he had been all too happy with that. Not to forget that he was the one who had told her about the Ring of Obedience and what it meant to be a blood thrall, if he was the Headmaster's man than why would he go out of his way to show her the atrocities the man had perpetuated against her?

So if he wasn't with Dumbledore could he be Grindelwald's agent? It was a possibility, Quirrel had been his assistant during her First Year and there had been a Dark Lord riding on the back of his head. Someone as gifted as Riddle working in such close proximity to Quirrel should have suspected something was amiss. Still, she found it hard to believe that the Defense instructor would ever submit to another; he was ambitious but she suspected that he had too much pride to be someone's lackey.

But then she knew very little of the man that had taken her under his wing, for all that she thought she had a good understanding of him there was no way to be certain. And while his tutoring in Dueling and magic in general had proven invaluable she couldn't help but wonder if she was just a tool to him, an asset to be controlled and directed to further his own agenda.

She would have to do as Pettigrew said and try to figure out just who the Deputy Headmaster was and where he came from. She couldn't exhibit that same blind trust she had before, not with the timeline to war approaching quickly. She had been awfully lax, family and friends had distracted her and made her complacent when she couldn't afford to be.

Iris peered out the carriage window at the deep shadows of the Forbidden Forest and steeled herself for what was to come. She had chosen to do this, chosen to fight a second war in the hopes of creating a better future than the one left behind and the cost of the future she wanted to forge would be high. She was not so self-diluted to believe that it would come bloodlessly nor that she would make it through cleanly or that she would make it through at all.

And wasn't that just a cheerful thought.

* * *

><p>The news of what happened on the train reached the castle by the time the students arrived; Remus had delivered his preliminary report via Patronus as soon as the Aurors had allowed the train to resume its course.<p>

Thus, Dumbledore wasn't surprised as the students filed into the Great Hall with a more subdued atmosphere than was usual for the Sorting Feast. The normal cacophony of students talking to one another and sharing their holiday exploits was reduced to a milder drone and it was clear that some considerations were being made for some of the students who looked more affected by the events than their peers.

Anger boiled up from within the Headmaster at seeing the withdrawn and melancholy faces of his students. He had warned Cornelius that appointing Dementors to stand vigil at Hogwarts was both unethical and unnecessary; Hogwarts' wards could be relied upon to keep the Death Eater threat away. He had very carefully explained that the only reason the castle's security had been breached the previous year was because the threat had been an internal one and that it was unlikely to happen again.

That the Minister had placed additional safeties at the school was admirable but the use of such Dark creatures was intolerable. They reveled in misery and decay, drawn to suffering and there was no doubt in his mind that some of his students had more than their fair share of horror stories with which to draw the wraiths.

It was why he had kept Neville at the castle rather than allow him to ride the train to Hogwarts, his eyes slid over to the boy sitting at Gryffindor table and watched as he comforted young Ginerva Weasley. The boy had suffered enough in his short life without dragging him through those experiences again and it pleased him that he was able to console those around him; both the young students and the older ones who stopped to converse with him as they passed along the table.

There was much to be pleased with concerning the boy, not least of all the progress he had made over the summer. Under careful supervision and with the right motivation, the results had been impressive; Neville was able to quickly grasp the theory behind most of his lessons and apply them practically. With a few more years to work with he could easily shape the boy into the scion of the Light that he required and more importantly the boy would take up that mantle willingly.

The same could not be said for his other project; Dumbledore's blue gaze swept further down the Gryffindor table to settle for a moment on Iris Potter. Just the sight of her caused his hand to twitch involuntarily as it tingled with remembered pain and he quickly allowed his eyes to wander about as he maintained an expression of grandfatherly congeniality even as his thoughts began to move along more dark corridors.

He knew that whatever had occurred in the Vault had somehow allowed her to slip the bonds of his control, which was irksome in itself and made only more so by the incomplete understanding of what had transpired to free her. Neville's memories of the events were patchy at best and besides from a few moments of lucidity he was forced to rely on the tale the girl had recounted and was most definitely censured.

He could justify his brutal machinations had been for the Greater Good and a result of the manifestations of her power that were clearly signs of prophetic magic at work. With the fate of Britannia on the line he could not risk such a powerful asset to be left uncontrolled, even if she would not attain her full potential for some years yet. His heavy handed manipulations should have ensured the future and the failure of his plans had forced him to reevaluate where his plans had gone awry.

He suspected that a portion of that failure could be laid at Tom's feet, he had known of the man's interest in Iris after all but foolishly believed that with the girl secured by the Ring that their continued interactions were harmless along with several others of her questionable companions. Dumbledore had berated himself furiously for such complacency, he had allowed her far more leeway in choosing what influences she would be surrounded by than he should have and would have to rectify that.

Something would have to be engineered to drive a wedge between her and the Slytherins she kept company with, Miss Greengrass could be tolerated but the other two could be nothing more than toxic friendships for someone so integral to the prosperity of the Light. Iris would have to suffer through the ignominy of it but she would persevere and come out of it none the worse for wear as she always did and perhaps be the stronger for it.

Still he would have to deal with Tom, that would be slightly more problematic but the private lessons they shared had to be stopped. Whatever potential benefits had existed with her furthered tuition had ceased with the dissolution of the Ring but with the girl older now he could at least insinuate the impropriety of the pair fostering such a close relationship. It would be arguably more difficult to make them abide by his decision but the castle was bound to his will and it could be enforced.

And then there was Gellert to deal with…

Albus balked at those thoughts and forced himself to return to the present as his Deputy came down the central aisle with his long purposeful strides, a scroll in one hand and his dark maroon robes billowing about him dramatically as he led the new First Year students who were all but jogging to keep up with his pace. Despite himself the Headmaster felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the sight.

There were several snickers from the student tables as the sorting began, Dumbledore then kept half a mind on the proceedings as he listened to Tom rattle of names while he memorized the faces of his fresh new students and committed them to memory. It took nearly an hour and a half for the Deputy to work his way through the seventy names and all the while Dumbledore's thoughts continued to move about shifting from Hogwarts to his duties in the Wizengamot and the ambassadorial role he played in the International Confederation of Wizards.

When at last the sorting was over and Tom had settled into his seat at the Headmaster's right hand, the silver haired wizard stood up and faced the assembled students in his periwinkle and violet hemmed robes. "Good evening and welcome back to another year at Hogwarts! While I can imagine many of you are quite hungry, I'm afraid I must delay your meal for a few moments more to introduce a slight change in staff.

"Professor Kettleburn has seen fit to retire to spend time with his remaining limbs; taking over his class will be our own Rubeus Hagrid." Dumbledore smiled fondly as he clapped for the half-giant, watching as the man stood from his seat at the end of the high table and waved his massive hands at the clapping students.

When order returned he continued, "Please allow me to introduce our new Assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Remus Lupin." The applause for the scarred man was more subdued then for Hagrid, which was unsurprising considering that as far as anyone knew the last two men to hold that position had both perished but if Remus noticed he didn't show it as he stood and took a polite bow before seating himself once more.

"Now as I'm sure you are all aware the events of last year have proven traumatic for many of us and the presence of Dementors along the edge of Hogwarts' grounds is distressing to say the least." Albus spoke now with graver solemnity than the other two professors had been introduced with to show the seriousness with which he held the safety and wellbeing of his students, "It is both my belief and that of the Governors that a counselor be added to the staff to ease your concerns and mine, so please give a warm welcome to my dear friend Artemis Sinclair."

* * *

><p>Ariana rose from her seat at Dumbledore's left hand and smiled at the assembled students as she gave a proper bow much like the Assistant Defense professor had but unlike him she received a much more generous amount of applause as well as a few whistles before she seated herself beside the Headmaster once more.<p>

Her creator continued on in his usual fashion as he explained the rules to the new students but she paid her surroundings only an ear of her attention as she allowed her blue eyes to move freely about the students. She could see the curiosity in their eyes as they regarded her, most of it was innocent enough but she could see a few lusty stares in the mix as well (for one handsome Ravenclaw she gave a wink as she caught him staring and watched as he blushed darkly).

Her gaze didn't settle until she found Gryffindor table and found a familiar round face with brown eyes smiling at her and giving her a half-wave that she returned with a friendly smile and a small wave of her own. The effect of the interaction was immediate as the Longbottom boy's male companions were looking between them with stricken looks and hanging jaws. The carrot haired girl beside him was giving her an intense stare of dislike and thin veiled jealousy.

She smirked internally at their expressions but didn't let it show on her face as she shifted her observations further up the table to a pair of vivid green eyes, the quiet intensity that seemed to make them glow was striking and for a moment Ariana was certain she was staring into the eyes of a feral beast rather than a child.

The moment was broken as Dumbledore clapped his hands and food appeared on the table in heaps atop golden platters, when Ariana returned her gaze to Iris the girl was quietly conversing with a bushy haired brunette as she filled her plate from the platters around her. Mentally shaking herself, the blonde forced herself to mimic the girl's actions as she loaded her own plate with a serving of pot roast and steamed vegetables.

The dinner past pleasantly as she made small talk with some of the teachers at the table, she was pleased that she seemed to make a very good first impression with the majority of the staff but most especially the Heads of House (save for the dungeon inhabiting one). It was quite clear that they were happy to have a qualified school counselor on staff, for all their experience as teachers it was always difficult to handle students with genuine issues.

Of course none of them knew that her position at the school was a ruse or that her certification as a Mind Healer and counselor were both fabricated by the Headmaster. For all the man's concern for the safety of his students, their mental health was a low concern, bullying was addressed with detention and the ostracizing of students a common occurrence as a result of the Hogwarts rumor mill.

Still, she managed to convince them that she was up to the task despite her youth and that her South African education in a boarding school had made her familiar with the plights of such students even if the completion of her residency in the Caribbean hadn't. These too were lies, carefully constructed ones that had been prepared and rehearsed throughout the summer as paper trails were inserted and documents forged.

When at last the feast came to close and the deserts vanished from plates Dumbledore rose up once more and bid the students good night and sent them off to their dormitories. Ariana watched silently from her seat as the prefects assembled the First Year students and began to lead them through the castle while the older students either departed ahead of them or lingered behind to fraternize further.

She watched interestedly as Iris stood at the entrance to the Great Hall with her Gryffindor posse and waited as the majority of students filed out. It was clear that she was quite popular as she smiled and greeted students that passed her by, reminding Ariana that she was a Seeker for one of the school teams and that she was quite possibly highly regarded for that alone.

It also showed she had some enemies as a hulking troll of a boy glared at her nastily as he tried to intimidate her but she disarmed him with a simple comment that left him flushed and hurriedly walking away. There was also a hard faced Slytherin girl that purposefully rammed her shoulder into Iris and most likely loosed a biting comment, for a moment the counselor was certain that the two would escalate the confrontation but a trio of Slytherins appeared and sent her on her way.

So those were Iris's slippery cohorts, even from across the Great Hall it was easy to see the rigid tenseness that was in the Seeker's frame dissipate as she conversed with her friends as they slipped through the tall doors. Ariana did not miss the emerald eyed witch cast a final look over her shoulder at the Head Table and how it focused on the Defense Professor, or possibly his assistant as she gave a hand wave.

Lupin waved back but Ariana wasn't convinced that the man had been the intended recipient, mainly because of the small smirk that lifted the corner of Riddle's mouth before he wiped it away and excused himself from the table.

It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This chapter was difficult to write and underwent numerous revisions until I was satisfied with the final product. In the end, I feel that this is ultimately a very slow paced chapter but I felt that the introduction of both Pettigrew and Astoria required such exposition and the confusion with how the last chapter ended needed to be explained in greater detail.

Next chapter will have some more movement and I'll be exploring the new relationships that have been created. As I hinted at last chapter, from this point forward the events that are unfolding will continue to move away from Rowling's works save for key plot events that are intrinsic to the story so I look forward to your reviews and critiques of the new plot.

To those who celebrated Thanksgiving, I hope you all enjoyed it and had a wonderful time.

**Next Chapter: **_The Secrets of the Emerald Isle_


	23. Chapter XX

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **Thank you all for your reviews, the favorites and the follows; it means a lot to me to see so many people enjoying the story and giving me a few moments of your time to share this project.

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XX**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland**

September the first had fallen on a Wednesday that year, which gave the students who had arrived four days to settle into the school before classes began.

Unfortunately, the teachers had no such reprieve as the morning after the Welcoming Feast saw them ensconced in the Staff Room; a large room tucked away on the first floor of the castle. The stone walls were softened with a few tapestries depicting the four house crests as well as the school crest; at the far end was a tall window that overlooked a portion of the Black Lake through which it was easy to see some of the students milling around the edge.

Along the walls were a few tables laden with snakes and refreshments for the teachers but the main object of the room was the large u-shaped table that dominated the center. Seated on the long sides were the senior teachers, most every one of them present save for Sybil Trelawney and Professor Binns; both of whom had not made an effort to join the mandatory staff meetings since 1985 in the case of the former and at the time of his death in the case of the latter.

The short side of the table was reserved for the Headmaster, his Deputy at his right hand side and newly placed at his left the new Counselor. The significance of this was not lost on the teachers, for all that Hogwarts was considered the foremost magical school in Britain it was still a school with its own hierarchy. After the Headmaster and his Deputy, the Heads of House and the Department Heads held the most influence, followed by the senior staff, then the assistant or adjunct professors and finally the research fellows.

The presence of Artemis at the Headmasters left had been hinted at during the Welcoming Feast but that might have been afforded her as an honorary guest, this time there was no question where she sat in the new hierarchy. From the signs of discomfort that flitted over the faces of the teachers when they glanced at her it was quite clear that many of them were uncomfortable with the situation, many of them were twice or three times her apparent age and having someone of such youthful appearance stationed above them in academic rank was disconcerting.

Severus Snape did not begrudge them their concerns; he remembered well when he had been appointed not only the new Potions professor but also the head of the Department as well as Head of Slytherin house. He had been a very young man then but also one of the youngest recorded Potion Masters in British history, he had held the unenviable position of spy amongst the Death Eaters and lived to tell the tale in no small part because he was a master Occlumens. No one had questioned his qualifications at the time of his appointment.

Sinclair was roughly the same age he had been when he had been given his appointment but as far as he could tell there was nothing overtly spectacular in her qualifications to give her such a position of authority. So he assumed that this as with many of the Headmaster's decisions was less about Hogwarts and more about his plans for the future. And that wasn't at all that unusual, in fact it was more along the line of what he was used to from Dumbledore.

Snape knew that for all his qualifications as a Potions Master the only reason why he was not rotting away in a cell in Azkaban at the moment was because of Dumbledore's benediction. And the fact that he was incredibly useful, a Potions Master of his caliber close at hand and with few scruples and a connection to the more nefarious dealings of the world was a powerful asset.

Severus could only wonder what dirt the old man had that bound Riddle to this place, from what Minerva had told him the man had been something of a legend when she was in Hogwarts. He had graduated two years before she had even arrived in the school but he was revered like a saint by many professors and spoken about often as a prodigy and genius who would change the world.

Instead he had faded into quiet anonymity, his ambitious zeal in school having changed to scholarly motivation as he explored the world, returning home to his native Britain just prior to the First Wizarding War. He had been Severus's own Defense teacher while the War had been waging and come to national attention when he had prevented an attack of Voldemort's forces on Diagon Alley; saving an untold number of lives. The man had repeated such actions and even led some battles of the war against the Dark Lords which had propelled him to a place as a war hero.

It had been that status that had made him the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts though many had pushed to outright give him the Headmaster's position, had it not been for Dumbledore's renown as the wizard who had ended Grindelwald's reign of power and his active involvement in the war in Britain, Riddle might have well ended up with the post. As it stood, it had been a very near thing.

In the time since the second defeat of Grindelwald, Riddle had been offered highly placed positions in the Ministry but had turned them down in favor of his current position. Still, he was still something of a national symbol to the older generation and a much beloved teacher to the newer one; that he had helped a number of his students to attain personal fame and power had not been lost on Severus.

And now this new woman, sitting at Dumbledore's side like she had always been there; the potioneer had to wonder just what she was really doing there. For what reason had she been brought to the school? What machinations did the Headmaster have in play?

* * *

><p>Dumbledore looked at his assembled staff from his wingback chair at the head of the table, he smiled congenially at them as he settled into the cushions of his seat and steepled his fingers against his chest. "Thank you all for sacrificing a portion of your morning to attend this meeting, before I begin are there any concerns or questions that you might have for me?" he began and let his twinkling blue eyes move about the senior teaching staff.<p>

He waited for a moment before nodding to himself when no one spoke up and continued, "Very well, on to business then. As you are all aware, the events of this summer have left us all concerned about the safety of Hogwarts and its students; allow me to allay your fears. Despite the security concerns of the past two years, I'd like to remind you that both incidents were caused by internalized threats from within the castle itself.

"The school has been searched in its entirety by a team of Aurors and Hit Wizards over the course of the summer, our wards have been reinforced and new early detection wards have been installed to ensure we are more secure then we have ever been. And our Minister has seen fit to appoint an additional layer of defense, the _Dementors_…" Dumbledore's voice showed all the vehemence and disdain he had for the creatures as he spoke their name, "…have been placed at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest."

Many of the teachers shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the reminder of the Dark creatures standing guard so close to the school, some of them peered out of the window to the forest in the distance; the shadows under the ancient boughs seemed just a bit darker and foreboding than they had seemed before.

"Unfortunately even with them at the far boundary of the forest I fear that we may see certain signs of their presence. Of greatest concern is the students, as I'm sure you are all aware we have more than a few … adventurous spirits," Dumbledore paused as someone coughed something that sound peculiarly like "Weasley twins" and allowed himself a small chuckle before resuming, "Yes, quite. In any case, for the safety of these students that castle will be going into lockdown starting tonight at curfew."

This particular announcement caused its fair share of commotion amongst the teachers because while lockdown might have been implemented for student safety it also meant that the teachers would be locked in as well and that Hagrid who lived on the grounds rather than the castle would be locked out. Albus knew that this would not be a particularly happy situation as it meant that the teachers who wished to leave the school would have to use either his or Tom's office fireplaces to floo out.

Of course, none of them knew that Severus and Artemis also had floo access through the fireplaces in their private quarters. That was a secret that he need not fear becoming public knowledge, both of them had reason for such privilege and neither would be talking about it.

Artemis's voice cut through the squabble and silenced the teachers with ease as she spoke, "Beyond limiting the student exposure to the Dementors, I fear that there may be a number of students who are more susceptible to their influence. I'd like you to monitor your students for signs of this susceptibility; nightmares are common as is depression. If you notice sudden drops in your students' academics or an ongoing irritability I'd like you to inform me so that I can assist these students."

If anyone was wondering about the counselor's conviction to her post that small speech was enough to convince them as the young woman conveyed a sense of gravitas and very real concern. If Dumbledore didn't know any better he too would have been convinced by the performance, but he knew it was just a manipulation if a very skilled one.

"Lastly, it has been brought to my attention that many of the younger students are quite concerned with their safety. While we may find the defenses reassuring, it is probable that the children will be more inclined to take matters into their own hands so I am hereby reinstating the Junior Dueling Club.

"If they are going to pursue their own self-defense than I would have them do it under supervision, Tom has done an impressive job with the upper classmen over the years and would not wish to add any more to his duties. So Filius, if you are agreeable to it; I'd like you to head up the underclassmen."

Attention shifted to the diminutive Charms professor who was seated on a chair with abnormally high legs as everyone was reminded that the white haired teacher was a former dueling champion. Flitwick for his part didn't pay the attention much mind as he stroked his thick mustache and contemplated the offer before speaking carefully, "It's doable Headmaster but I'll require some assistance, would you be adverse to me borrowing Mister Lupin?"

This was in fact most convenient for the Headmaster and he smiled at the turn of events as he nodded graciously to the Charms professor's request. Glancing down at his notes, Albus concluded that he had covered everything he had wanted to in this meeting and dismissed the professors with a wish for them to enjoy their day. He placed a hand on Tom's elbow as the Deputy attempted to rise from his own seat, "Wait a moment with me Tom, there is something I'd like to discuss."

The Defense professor narrowed his eyes at the older wizard suspiciously but consented as he lowered himself back down. Albus waited until the senior staff filed out of the room and door closed firmly shut before he drew his wand and erected a powerful privacy spell over the room.

Tom tensed as the spell settled over the room, his gaze moving from the Headmaster to Artemis who had remained in her seat. Wariness and curiosity were warring within him in equal measure but he remained poised and utterly unflappable as the older wizard climbed out of his chair and approached the window at the back of the room to look out over the grounds and the students that were enjoying the free day.

He waited patiently as he waited for someone to broach the mounting tense silence that descended upon the three occupants of the room. After several minutes the Headmaster cleared his throat and as if waiting for that cue, the Counselor began speaking.

"Professor Riddle," The Defense instructor noted that she was referring to him with his lesser title rather than the Deputy honorific, "It has been brought to my attention that over the past two years, you've been providing private lessons for Iris Potter. I must admit I find this highly … irregular."

Dumbledore watched the man's reflection in the glass and how he almost unnoticeably stiffened in his seat before relaxing and leaning backwards as he crossed his legs and stared back at the woman with his coal black eyes, an easy smirk playing across his handsome features.

"Your point being?"

"I don't mean to call your conduct into question but you must understand that Hogwarts being the institution it is, there is a certain level of scrutiny that is applied to its staff. There have been… concerns." Artemis was doing her utmost to remain politic but it was clear where her statement was leading.

"I see, so what 'concerns' have been raised?"

"There have been questions about your professional conduct; these private lessons have been construed as blatant displays of favoritism. Miss Potter has the top position in Defense Against the Dark Arts but over the course of the last year she has fallen from the top position in almost all of her other classes save for Charms.

"This aside, if these private sessions are allowed to continue it will only be a matter of time before certain other allegations are raised. Hogwarts' will not tolerate that kind of stigma so it is imperative that your fraternization with Miss Potter end immediately. Otherwise, your employment will be terminated." Artemis's voice was steely with thinly veiled detestation as her hands twitched, as though wishing to do nothing more than draw her wand and cast the man out of the castle herself.

Tom didn't seem fazed in the least but Dumbledore could see the subtle tightening of the man's hands on the armrests of his seat and the drafty circulation of air that seemed to have sprung up. Still the man's voice was as dismissive as it had been a moment before, "Miss Potter's performance in my class is nothing short of a result of her own work, her position as the top of her class in that field is beyond reproach."

"It will be if she maintains that position when you stop meeting her outside of class!" Artemis growled out, oblivious to the warning signs that she was angering a very powerful wizard that could in all reality squash her like an insect underfoot.

Tom did not respond to the woman's words as he raised his hand and inspected his perfectly formed nails, marking her as utterly beneath his notice as he gracefully stood and walked the length of the room without so much as looking at her again. At the door he gave a curt "Good day Headmaster," before he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him; the resulting bang shattered the privacy ward and caused the glass window the headmaster was staring out of to explode outwards.

The Defense professor allowed himself a satisfied smile as he heard a feminine scream of surprise. He chuckled darkly to himself as he walked down the corridor as he pictured all the ways he was going to torture that woman.

* * *

><p>The day after the feast found Astoria in a state of shock, the young girl was perched on her bed looking out the window of a tower at picturesque view of the Forbidden Forest with the nearby mountain ranges rising up in the distance under a cloudless sky. She had to admit it was breathtakingly beautiful but the whole experience was oddly surreal.<p>

The Sorting Hat had put her in Ravenclaw and she was struggling to come to terms with that fact. It was not that she did not think that she wasn't fit for Ravenclaw, it was quite suited to her as a point of fact; she was a studious and disciplined individual who loved to learn.

What she had not expected was the separation from her sister, in retrospect what the Hat told her made a great deal of sense; it had acknowledged that she was ambitious and quite cunning but that she lacked the ruthlessness needed to thrive in Slytherin. There was a truth to that, many of her peers like the Gryffindors or the Hufflepuffs would have interpreted the Hat as meaning that she lacked the mean streak that was present in many Slytherins. Which was true of her but more importantly it was also a shallow understanding of ruthlessness.

Daphne was not mean, at least not in the sense that Parkinson could be. Her elder sister was not unnecessarily cruel or intolerant but she could be vindictive and even hostile when the situation called for it. She had always been her protector, had always been there to watch out for her and keep her safe; when girls like Parkinson had picked on her for being shy or happier listening to music than gossiping it had been Daphne who had come down on them and taught them better.

So she had always assumed that she would be in Slytherin and that Daphne would be near at hand as always had been the case. But here she was, in one of Hogwarts' tallest towers; in a plain bedroom spartanly furnished, on a comfortable four-poster bed with a dark blue duvet and a bronze eagle embossed on the headboard.

She released a sigh and forced herself to climb out of bed, it wasn't like she was alone after all; her sister was still in the castle after all and Liatris was just a few floors up in the Gryffindor tower. She had more pressing matters to take care of after all, like what she was going to do with her bedroom.

The prefect had said that she would be keeping this room for the duration of her time in Hogwarts and that it was her to do with as she wanted. She stood in front of the window and faced the door as she looked around, there was a simple writing desk tucked against the corner to her right and to her left was the nightstand beside the bed. Across from her in the opposite left side corner was the wardrobe, her trunk set down beside it so she could unpack. The walls were all unbroken stone so she could hang things at her leisure and the floor was barren as well.

She smirked to herself in a very Daphne-esque way as ideas of what she wanted to do came to mind, "I can work with this."

* * *

><p><strong>Viridian House, Newcastle, Northern Ireland<strong>

Gellert looked out over the flawlessly manicured emerald lawns that spread out before the porch of the two story plantation style home that was the Viridian House, it wasn't the oldest estate that the Selwyn's boasted of but it was probably the most secure. Twenty acres of prime farmland with no neighbors within a kilometer of the furthest edges of the property, it made it very difficult to sneak up on the occupants of the house; especially after a certain Dark Lord had spent a week laying down new wards and defenses.

It had come at a cost though with the body of his former host wasting away as the spectral incarnation worked its dark magic and sewed the land with some very nasty spells, the German Dark Lord had exhausted himself and been forced to reside in the body of an owl as he recovered from the ordeal before he was able to hunt for a new body to possess. It was an insufferable experience to know that at one time he had been feared as the most powerful Dark Lord to ever live and had possessed the might to singlehandedly raise the granite fortress of Nurmengard from the very Earth but in his present state he could do little more than a few parlor tricks before he was utterly wasted.

He desperately needed to reclaim a physical body of his own, a contingency that he had never expected to enact when he had first been convinced to create his Horcruxes at his Apprentice's urging. In the wake of his body's destruction Voldemort had immediately begun preparations for restoring Grindelwald to his body but he had not taken into account just how weakened the German Dark Lord would be.

It had taken nearly a year for the specter that the Dark Teacher had become to regain enough strength to do hitch a ride in the body of a rodent, let alone possess it and move of his own accord. By then the conquest of the British Isles had ground to a halt and the Death Eaters were being routed while those that had been acting clandestinely from within the government were being rooted out because of a few captives divulging the identities of their accomplices for lighter sentences.

So it had taken years for Gellert to muster the strength to take possession of a mere muggle and make contact with Voldemort and by then the Dark Lord had fully reclaimed his public persona as Tom Riddle, the revered war hero who had taken up teaching alongside the venerated Headmaster Dumbledore. The preparations to restore Grindelwald to his body were no longer in place and when the German learned that the ritual that would restore him to body would make him more creature than man he had refused.

The years since then had been filled with setbacks as the two Dark Lords began constructing a ritual all their own that would satisfy Grindelwald's vanity and allow him to retain his full might as a wizard. Both wizards were well learned in spell creation and the dark arts but the nature of the magic they were exploring was so far beyond the scope of what was known that they had needed to create entirely new formulas of arithmancy and take their understanding of magic beyond that of Merlin himself.

Their goal was difficult enough for a team of scholars and academics committed to the task full time but when Voldemort had to conduct classes and execute the duties of deputy headmaster for Hogwarts while simultaneously conducting a cold war against the Ministry of Magic of the British Isles it left very little time for exhaustive research. And still he could not abandon his post without losing access to a massive pool of Britannia's most elite and talented youth as well as the academic information that could only be leveraged by his position.

The pair had long ago concluded that they needed greater resources to restore the Dark Teacher to a permanent body. Resources they could not gain access to without more agents, agents they couldn't recruit en masse without tipping their hand and bringing the cold war out into the open where they would be crushed by the opposition. Without a body, Grindelwald could not gain access to his money and his most powerful backers would need more proof of his identity than he could muster through possession.

Thus the Dark Lords had been content to wage their cold war and leverage the power they did have while biding their time as they were essentially immortal.

However recent developments had changed the situation, namely the presence of Iris Potter had the potential to dramatically redress the balance of power; which was why Grindelwald was now occupying the body of a young man that had been plucked from one of the farms near Newcastle as he patiently awaited his servant's arrival.

A clock from within the home just finished chiming two o'clock and created a sudden silence that after only a few moments was filled by the sound of flames roaring to life as Rickard Selwyn emerged from the fireplace amidst tongues of green flame. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties, though it was notoriously hard to accurately discern the age of magical folk, tall and lean and immaculately dressed in well-tailored and expensive robes.

Rickard took a moment to brush the soot off his clothes and straighten his salt and pepper hair as he looked around in search of the Dark Teacher, a task made more difficult than it would seem since the man had changed bodies since the last time they had spoken. Nevertheless it wasn't hard to see the familiar dark blue eyes that appeared nearly black currently staring at him from an unfamiliar face.

He crossed through the foyer of Viridian House with nary a pause to take in the Victorian décor before stepping out onto the porch and into the crisp September air; he did however place his right hand over his heart and bow at the waist towards the Dark Lord. The action pleased Grindelwald and he bid his Seneschal to rise with a faint smirk playing across his lips, it was not a look that suited the hard square jaw of his host.

"I hope you can walk and talk Selwyn, it's a fine day and I for one will not squander such lovely weather." Gellert stated as he took the lead without waiting for the man to reply and stepped off the porch, his pace was unhurried and his stance relaxed as he meandered towards a green barn with a white roof a few hundred yards from the residence. "What news do you have on my Knights here in the Isles?"

Selwyn scrambled for a moment to fall into step with the powerful wizard but answered immediately, "It is difficult to say my lord, there are a few I believe who if presented with the right information would readily return to the fold but I think this is because they have lacked direction in your absence and their holdings have declined as a result.

"Those who have worked diligently to increase their fortunes would not be so easily moved I think, the men with the resources that you have outlined would need to see your return in person. However, I believe there are a few people; those who have or would be the inheritors of their father's accounts that could be persuaded to invest in a lucrative venture that would present significant dividends in a few years."

Rickard of course had been a solicitor and a businessman before he had become a politician and he was still wont to flex some of his muscle in the markets though he was more familiar with kickbacks these days. He had enough clout that if he made the play to take a young man under his wing or give some financial advice they would be all too eager to line-up. Gellert played with the thought for a moment, it wasn't what he had wanted to hear; he had hoped that his name would be sufficient to bring his followers to heel or at the very least be used to persuade the younger generation.

Instead he would be playing off of Selwyn's name, Rickard's standing, the thought irked him and his pride made him want to throw away the proposition on that principle alone but he reasoned that he had been out of the minds of the people for a decade. Begrudgingly he signed off on the plan, "Make your play Rickard, once I have access to those funds plans will be set into motion that have been in the making for nearly have a century and when those plans come to fruition you will be rewarded beyond your imagining."

The Wizengamot member didn't hear the undercurrent of anger in the voice of the Dark Lord that might have indicated that the reward he was imagining and the one that was swirling behind ultramarine eyes might not be the same. Instead he bowed graciously and when he realized the man had not slowed his pace he again hurried to catch up as, "As you command, my lord."

"Money is good but I'll need soldiers as well Rickard and the doctors are wearing thin on my patience. I need the Lestranges so that I can begin recruiting and training my forces but no one will tell me when they'll be fit." Gellert's voice was now clearly irritated, when he had made the decision to move the Lestrange clan to Viridian House he had not been sure what he had been hoping for. Years of malnutrition and mental anguish would be difficult for just about anyone to overcome but Selwyn had done as he was bidden and hired the absolute best physicians available outside of the United Kingdom, a team of them from Egypt's esteemed Oasis Clinic.

The process had been astounding to watch from a purely academic perspective, Grindelwald himself had never had much interest in healing magic before the last decade or so and even then his efforts had been more focused towards a more theoretical concept than a practicable field.

The first week at Viridian House, Gellert had kept the Lestranges sedated with a Draught of Living Death while he set up the wards and recovered from that ordeal. After that he had allowed Selwyn to bring in his physicians, surprisingly they had kept the fugitives sedated while they administered nutrition potions and performed a variety of extensive medical examinations. Such had remained the case for another fortnight, the Death Eaters had been left comatose for a month while their bodies were allowed to heal and recuperate from years of malnutrition and living in a cage.

It was remarkable the amount of torment a body could take, a lesson he had nearly forgotten in the years that he had spent without torturing someone. Still it was nice to be reminded and he after seeing what could be done to heal a body with a team of diligent healers the idea of endlessly torturing a soul seemed a fun experiment; one that would have to wait to be sure but hopefully for not too much longer.

It was late August before the doctors revived their patients and the Lestrange family had awoken. The initial results had proven truly remarkable, while their bodies were still weak they were at the very least healthy and with a strict diet and exercise the chances of a full recovery were very good.

Their mental state however was very much in question.

Gellert's greatest concern had of course been Bellatrix, it had never been a secret that she was Voldemort's most devoted follower and certainly his Apprentice had invested enough time and energy in her that it was quite evident that she was amongst his most favored. But that was before her imprisonment, before she had taken it upon herself to launch an attack against certain families in retribution for Grindelwald's bodily destruction.

It wasn't entirely her fault of course, generations of inbreeding had created certain quirks among the Black line; uncontrollable rage, sadism, outright madness. Bellatrix had never been what one would consider especially sane but her proclivity towards sociopathy had been a tremendous asset in the midst of a war.

So it was quite a surprise when Bellatrix seemed very much unchanged after her long captivity and torment, a feat that had been attributed to Voldemort's tutelage and her own nature. One of the Eygptian mediwitches had explained that through near constant employment of Occlumency Madam Lestrange had managed to bear the brunt of her exposure to Dementors and what memories had resurfaced were mitigated by her underlying personality. In short, you couldn't drive a madwoman into madness.

The same could not be said for the brothers, Rodolphus the elder of the two had learned Occlumency at the feet of his father as he was trained as his successor; secrets were the currency with which the Purebloods had been dealing for centuries and the ability to protect those secrets were very much required. Despite his abilities it was clear that he had suffered during his confinement on Azkaban, the brave and calm young man had been replaced by someone who was far more irritable, often exploding into dangerous fits of rage.

Rabastan was far worse, without the defense that Occlumency provided he had been subjected to every foul thing that had happened to him; for years he had been forced to relive every humiliation he had ever suffered, every ounce of pain he had borne. It was no surprise that his mind had shattered.

The mind healer that had been hired believed that Rodolphus's condition could be improved, that the man could be taught how to control his outbursts of anger even if they couldn't be stopped. For what it was worth, Bellatrix seemed all the more endeared to her husband's new lack of control and desire for violence.

But Rabastan was beyond their capabilities, there were some mind healers who might have the ability to wander safely through the man's mindscape and piece his sanity back together but such healers were exceptionally rare.

"The healers are unwilling to deal in absolutes my lord, the best they can say is that Bellatrix and Rodolphus will make a full recovery within the next few months. Rabastan however…" Selwyn hesitated to deliver the bad news and knew that his master would only be angered to discover that one of the Death Eaters would probably never recover.

Grindelwald stopped a few yards away from the barn and turned to look at the seneschal with a dark glower that made the man swallow thickly, "What about Rabastan?" the Dark Lord growled out dangerously, the youthful countenance of his face contorting with anger.

"Milord, Rabastan is beyond the healers' abilities. Physically and magically he should make a full recovery along with the others but… his mind is gone. He seems capable of understanding simple orders but otherwise he's more akin to a well-trained animal than a person." Selwyn bowed his head as he repeated the healers' report, unwillingly to hold the other wizard's angry gaze.

Rickard could feel his master's glower on his bowed head and was certain that if it were not for his usefulness that he would have been tortured or killed for delivering this news. Instead he watched as the feet of the young body that Gellert was in whirled away and the ends of the man's cloak smacked him in the face. With a breath of relief he straightened and followed after his liege.

Gellert strode up to the massive barn and took a deep breath as he forced his ire down, with the volatile nature of the Death Eaters within it was not wise to display his temper until they learned to regain control over themselves. Taking hold of the door handle he eased it open and strode into the large structure with a warm smile for the Death Eaters.

At present two of the patients were engaged in a simple magical exercise akin to what twelve year olds might be asked to do at Hogwarts, a series of discs in various colors were hovering in the air and the task was to hit the called color with a tickling jinx. The drill was meant to reinforce coordination and use of magic at this level but more sophisticated levels this drill would reinforce reaction time, target acquisition and accuracy for duelists.

The healers had insisted that their patients take things slowly at first, for the first week all of the patients had been made to exercise and reacquaint themselves with muscles that had atrophied in two by two meter cell. This week they had been given back their wands and were being reintroduced to their magic, hence the childish exercise; but this at least Grindelwald understood.

Magic was as much a muscle for a wizard as anything else, exercise it and it grew stronger, neglect it and it would weaken. It would take some time before any of the Lestranges were ready for a duel let alone the mission he had in mind but it would happen.

He watched as Bellatrix effortlessly landed spell after spell on the plates, it was obvious that she at least was bored of this exercise and was ready to move on but Rodolphus was struggling; every jinx he hurled broke the plate he was aiming at and often one or two beside it as well. The man's brittle control over his emotions made it difficult for him to moderate the power of his casting; where Bellatrix's spell would have been like tickling someone with a feather, her husband was trying to tickle someone with a sledgehammer.

Rabastan however looked at the proceedings with a blank face, he seemed barely aware of his surroundings but did as he was told; hitting each plate as the color was called without difficulty or interest.

The whole situation was very peculiar and as Selwyn stepped into the barn to stand beside his master, Grindelwald's mind was already adjusting his plans. "Rickard, contact Lucius and inform him that I require Hogwarts's ward schema. That shouldn't be too hard for him to gather."

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland<strong>

Monday morning began with all the fanfare that a day of school normally did, Iris clambered out of bed shortly before six thirty with a muffled groan as she saw Hermione's bed already empty and made which could only mean the brunette with the bushy hair was even more excited than she normally was.

Then again, this was the start of the third year and that promised new classes and the chance to learn something new; which was all it really took to get Hermione's academic mind fired up. And even Iris had to admit that she was looking forward to the new classes that she had signed up for; she had decided to forego Divinations in this lifetime and pursue some classes of a more interesting nature. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy had both found their way onto her booklist over the summer holidays alongside a very familiar book about magical creatures.

So it was with a renewed excitement for schooling that the witch sauntered into the shared bathroom and began her morning ablutions before changing into her uniform and heading down to the Common Room where Hermione had already buried her nose in the Arithmancy textbook, though she had more than likely read through the entire book twice.

"Well aren't you just as eager as ever?" Iris commented dryly as she approached the plush couch that her best friend had claimed, not that there were very many people up and about yet with whom to fight over it. Not that they had a hope of winning either.

Hermione didn't even bother to put down her book as she replied, she just tilted it forward slightly so she didn't muffle her own words; "I could barely get a wink of sleep so I just thought I'd-"

"- Reread the entire Arithmancy textbook to revise for the first day of class?" Iris finished helpfully as she placed a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow as Hermione sheepishly lowered the text with a hint of flush filling her face.

"Not the whole textbook, maybe just the first half of it. It really is quite interesting!" She said earnestly which only got her a playfully exasperated sigh from Iris as the raven haired witch helped to hoist her from the overstuffed sofa.

"Vector is going to love you." Iris said as she adjusted the sling of her bag across her chest and headed for the tower entryway.

"Well of course she is, doesn't everybody?" Hermione retorted with a haughty flip of her hair before she and Iris burst into laughter as they slipped through the Fat Lady's portrait.

The pair chatted amicably as they descended the many stairways from the Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall where they slipped unnoticed onto the end of their House table. Things began to pick up shortly after they began their breakfast as the majority of students began to file into the large chamber, friends sitting with one another as they began to lay their predictions of what the first day of classes would hold for all of them.

Iris caught bits and pieces of conversation as she idly looked around the room, she could hear Oliver going on about how this year he had a whole program planned that would assure them the Quidditch Cup along with the stifled groans of the Weasley twins as they imagined what that was going to be like. The Seeker herself was looking forward to getting back on a broom this year, she hadn't gotten the chance to play against Draco last year with the Trial interfering with things but she was excited to compete against the boy.

"And what has you smiling this fair morning, dear cousin?" The silky drawl of the platinum blonde resounded in her ear and nearly made her jump; instead she took an extra moment before turning to face the Slytherin with a teasing smile. "I was just imagining where in the Gryffindor Common Room I should put the Quidditch Cup this year."

Draco's eyes smoldered at the implication and he allowed a smile of his own to play across his features, "I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed then because it'll be squarely over the mantel in Slytherin this year."

"I do hope Flint has an actual strategy this year other than trying to bully the pitch, I mean that plan worked so well last year didn't it?" Liatris quipped as she ruffled the blond's hair and took a seat next to her sister.

Draco didn't bother to respond as he huffed in indignation and attempted to smooth his hair back into place after it was so rudely displaced, "Really? Quidditch talk so early in the morning? It's no wonder you're a prodigy, I bet you even dream Quidditch maneuvers." Daphne said as she greeted the Gryffindor girls with a kiss on the cheek before she too made a mess of the Malfoy heir's hair.

"Well I did grow up with three man-children for parental figures and Dad could have gone pro so I expect it's just in my blood." Iris defended herself with an easy smile as she solemnly patted Draco's hand as he looked murderously at Daphne while Blaise transfigured a spoon into a hand mirror.

"If you keep up that look your face will get stuck that way." The dark-skinned youth said with absolute seriousness that caused Draco to look at him skeptically before deciding it wasn't worth it and went to putting his hair back into perfect place.

"Thank the Goddess for that, I'd have made you a mortal enemy if you'd ended up a fan of the Chudley Cannons!" Draco muttered darkly as he glanced down the Gryffindor table to where a certain ginger haired boy was shoveling food down his gullet and being reprimanded for his table manners by Professor McGonagall. The stern faced professor must have noticed the attention that was being sent her way because she sent a sharp glance towards the group that was a cue for the Slytherins to head off to their own table before breakfast was finished.

"We'll see you ladies at lunch." Blaise said in parting as he took his Housemates by the elbow and lead them off before the Transfiguration instructor managed to make her way to the end of the table with the remaining stack of schedules in her arms.

Liatris discreetly muttered the counter-spell to the transfiguration that returned the mirror back into a spoon that she promptly used to serve herself some oatmeal. "As happy as I am to see you've kept up with your studies Miss Potter, please remind Mister Zabini that transfiguration outside of the classroom is prohibited." McGonagall gave the trio a piercing glance before her gaze flitted over to the Slytherin table where the other three were just managing to take their seats, returning her attention to the task at hand she deftly selected the three schedules from the stack in her arms and handed them out before heading back up the table.

"Maybe you should have taken Divinations after all Hermione, looks like we've got Arithmancy first thing this morning." Iris pointed out as she looked over her schedule, mentally making a list of all the classes the Gryffindors shared with Slytherin. It was something of a force of habit she had picked up over both lifetimes if for very different reasons.

Hermione snorted her disdain, "Thank goodness for your mother, if she hadn't sat us down and talked to us about our electives I'd have been convinced to give all of them a go. I don't see why anyone would take a wooly class like Divinations!"

The sisters Potter shared a glance as they both thought of a few reasons why someone might be inclined towards the class but both simply shook their heads. There was no point in arguing it with Hermione, especially since they tended to agree with her perspective. Fortunately, it was still early enough that Parvati and Lavender had yet to arrive in the Great Hall lest Hermione's words be taken as a declaration of war.

The remainder of breakfast was a short affair as the rest of the student body began to trickle in to start their first day of class, Pollux eventually joined them at the table with a mumbled greeting before he piled food on his plate and tucked into with a gusto that would have rivaled Ron save for the fact that the Black heir had the decency to actually chew and swallow his food instead of inhaling it.

Before long, Hermione was ushering her best friend out of the Great Hall and towards the Arithmancy classroom a full twenty minutes early so they could get good seats ahead of their Ravenclaw classmates. Indeed by the time they had climbed back up to the castle's seventh floor and slipped into the class there were only a few minutes to spare until the start of class and a fair number of seats had already been filled.

The two girls claimed seats in the second row to the left of the classroom and were settling in as the instructor entered the room, her scarlet robes swirled around her as she walked briskly to the front of the classroom and took a stance behind a plain wrought iron lectern. Professor Septima Vector was a tall middle-aged woman, made taller by the delicately pointed hat that she wore over her long straight black hair; she was a stern faced witch with a reputation for being not only incredibly strict but a grueling taskmistress as well.

A tinkling chime sounded through the air as the clock struck nine and the professor nodded to herself as though she had been waiting for that cue before she began her class. "Welcome to Arithmancy! As you know I am Professor Septima Vector and I will be your instructor for the next three years and possibly longer for those of you who decide to continue this course into your N.E.W.T. years. I will tell you now that this class is perhaps the most important class you will take here at Hogwarts and likewise it is neither for the faint of heart nor those who lack the dedication and drive to push themselves.

"All of you have cast a spell, brewed a potion, and ridden a broomstick but how many of you have wondered how it works? How does an incantation, a flick of your wand, and your intention make a spell? Those are the questions that Arithmancy seeks to answer through the analysis and quantification of the nature of magic.

"This year we will begin exploring the fundamental models of magic as well as the basic theorems that form the framework of our comprehension of spellwork. If you open your books to page seven, we will begin with the Rules of Methodology…"

* * *

><p>"That was an utter waste of time! How dare she?! I'm the vanquisher of Grindelwald! She's a complete fraud!" Neville was furious as he stormed away from the North Tower with Ron keeping pace at his side. The celebrity glared at his friend for a moment as he resented the boy's growth spurt over the summer that allowed him to keep up with his angry pace by opening up his strides a bit.<p>

The morning had begun as uneventfully as any other; in fact Neville had been rather looking forward to the new year at Hogwarts after spending half his summer training with Dumbledore and other specialized tutors. He had been given a crash course in the practical use of the spells that would be taught over the year which should give him an edge in his classes and the dueling lessons he had received were likewise an advantage that would serve him when the Dueling Club opened up again this year.

However that mood had been spoiled when that fool Trelawney had opened her class by predicting that he was going to die with those tea leaves. The teenager had snapped at the perceived insult and had thrown the offending teacup into the fireplace before yanking open the trapdoor and leaving the smoky classroom.

Ron followed after the slightly shorter boy as a couple of emotions tumbled through him, on one hand he shared the boys outrage at the Divinations instructor; predicting someone's death was not something that should be joked about with especially not with someone like Neville. The boy suffered terrible nightmares and he had awakened more than once in the middle of the night to the boy calling out for his mother and Ron had never gotten the impression that it was his stepmother.

On the other hand Ron was just a tad annoyed with his best friend, instead of just accepting that what the woman had done was wrong he had to justify his outrage like he needed to prove something. "That's kind of the point Nev, remember what Fred said; the lady's utterly barmy but it's one of the easiest classes to get good marks in." The ginger haired boy tried to placate his friend and calm him down.

"I refuse to spend another minute with that woman! I'd rather suffer through Burbage's tangents about Muggles than deal with someone who has clearly lost her marbles." Neville stopped his furious pace and whirled on Ron; raising his finger he planted the digit on the taller boy's chest, "I've defeated a Dark Lord, twice already and might have a third time if not for the fact that your sister gave me that cursed bracelet! And that loon dares to insinuate that I'm going to die after being trained by Professor Dumbledore himself?!"

Ron's ears had turned red at the tips as his mate started on Ginny and he even opened his mouth to angrily retort but the words died on his lips at the revelation that Neville was being trained by the Headmaster.

It wasn't the first time that the brunette had claimed to have received special training, according to the child celebrity Hagen Metzger the current world champion of the International Dueling League had personally taught the boy how to duel before he had come to Hogwarts.

His performance last year against Zabini had certainly been impressive but then again, Iris had taken the wind out of his sails and the only person who had taught her had been her father and maybe her godfather; well respected Aurors to be sure but Metzger was the best in the world. It seemed doubtful that someone trained by the champion duelist would have lost to the schoolgirl, even if she was one of the top students in their year.

And now he was getting training from Albus Dumbledore, the man who had defeated Grindelwald after his first rise to power and the only man Voldemort feared, enough to go into retreat after the loss of his teacher. Ron wanted to shrug it off and think that the boy was just spouting at the mouth again but somehow he didn't think that was the case this time.

Instead, the redhead just nodded, "Okay, we'll talk to Professor McGonagall after class and see if she can change our schedules."

Neville held his glare for a moment longer before he seemed satisfied and started off again towards the Transfiguration classroom, not noticing that Ron just stood in place for a moment watching his friend's back.

After the events of last year Ron had noticed a change in his friend; he was quicker to anger and his outbursts were explosive but he was also more serious. No one really knew what had gone on with the Trial other than that Neville had disappeared and Iris had somehow rescued him but it had left scars on the Boy-Who-Lived.

Was that why Dumbledore had trained Neville over the summer? To help him deal with what had happened. Or did the Headmaster suspect that there was more? After all, training implied that you were preparing for something.

* * *

><p>Lunch in the Great Hall was tense for the Third Year students, the story of what had happened in the North Tower was already spreading through the school and the Boy-Who-Lived was quickly growing irritated with all of the stares that kept being sent his way.<p>

Blaise watched the events unfold from across the room at Slytherin table, it had been silently agreed upon that there was too much attention being focused on Gryffindor table without throwing in the presence of three snakes in the Lion Den. He knew that there wasn't much blowback on his Gryffindor friends hanging out with him and his ilk since Iris was her House's Seeker and an exceptionally talented one at that, nevertheless he knew it was her only shield against what would have been many disparaging remarks for her behavior.

He knew that mainly because he had seen the glances that some of the older Gryffindors had sent his way over the years, not that any of them had taken the time to speak with him, but they had all assumed that he was some kind of leech; attaching himself to Iris because he thought he could get something out of her.

A sentiment that was not far off the mark but certainly not what they had in mind, honest friendship had been one of the things he had thought he could get out of Iris. That was a rather rare gem to found in the dungeons amongst his housemates, Slytherins, especially Pureblood Slytherins often held the sentiment that one did not have friends but allies. The person next to you should be regarded for their abilities and what they could promise you in the future or what connections they could provide you with.

That Blaise had managed to forge two friendships in his House was nearly unheard of and he counted himself quite fortunate to have accomplished the feat. Draco was incredibly vain and often allowed his emotions to get the better of him but it was refreshing to see someone so passionate where stony-faced facades were the norm. Daphne though, she was the embodiment of their House's reputation; cold and indifferent to just about everyone save for the allies that she had picked out amongst their peers where she presented her 'society' face.

Her mother had taught her exceedingly well and he was certain that if it had not been for their shared friendship with Iris that he would never have seen the girl's real face; the side of her that was all thoughtfully considerate and kind, charitable even but also fiercely protective.

They had formed a rather strange trio, after all the Greengrass name while Pureblood had remained stalwartly neutral in the last war and in the way they cast their vote in the Wizengamot. So it was rather strange to see the heir to that house so close to the heir of the Malfoy line, a family that was rather infamous for their views on Pureblood supremacy and that leaned to the conservative side. Of course, there was none more out of place amongst them than he; the Zabini name had no power here in Britain for all its clout in the Mediterranean, neither a seat in the Wizengamot nor any ties to the Ministry.

It was mainly thanks to Draco that the trio had not found themselves the victims of 'reeducation' as the older Slytherins liked to call it when they bullied the younger students into keeping the status quo. Interacting with Gryffindors and Muggleborns was strictly against the established rules, normally such associations would have cost them more than a bit of discomfort but everyone was quite aware of Lucius Malfoy's reputation.

As such, no one dared to question Draco's decision to associate with his favorite cousin and her friend, even if it was against tradition. In fact, they were ignored for the most part; not quite ostracized as they were the heirs of influential houses but not fully accepted either. Conversations would lapse into silence if they got too close or suddenly change topics, not all together unusual when delicate matters were being discussed but even innocuous topics seemed off-limits when any of the trio were around.

He had long gotten over how hurtful that exclusion had been, to be denied the simple comforts that the rest of his Housemates shared; as long as a First Year abided the "rules" then they could ask a Seventh year for help, so long as he knew he would have to pay for it in some way later. Blaise hadn't been afforded that privilege after his friendship with Iris and Hermione had come to light, instead he had learned that if he had a question he was better served finding out the answer for himself.

It had gotten to a point where he was somewhat glad that he didn't live in this country, if schoolchildren had such prejudices it could be no wonder why the government was so corrupt and wrongheaded.

It was at around this time that he felt a prickling sense of unease that stirred the hairs at the back of his neck and he glanced up from the plate of food he had been pushing around while he was absorbed with his thoughts. A cursory scan of the Great Hall didn't yield anything out of the ordinary so he looked over at the Head Table and immediately his gaze was captured by a pair of brilliant blue eyes.

Something told him that the new counselor had been watching him but he couldn't be sure as she gave him a warm smile and a slight nod before she returned to her conversation with Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor was speaking quite energetically so whatever the topic was it must have been significant to her.

The dark-skinned boy was startled out of his thoughts as Draco shook his shoulder and indicated that it was time to go to class, nodding he stood up from the table and the two boys departed for the grounds leaving Daphne to enjoy her break since she had decided to forego Care for Magical Creatures.

"So what's got your wand in a knot?" Draco asked quietly as they neared the Entrance Hall doors, the blond boy giving his friend a concerned look.

"Nothing to worry about, political philosophy." Blaise said offhandedly as he gave his companion a reassuring smile as they walked across the school's lawn towards the gamekeeper's hut.

Already there was a small congregation of students forming in front of the stone building as they waited for the mountain of a man to make an appearance. The two Slytherins slipped into the crowd beside their Gryffindor friends, Blaise pointedly ignoring the glares being sent his way by Longbottom and Weasley while Draco smirked at them as he greeted Iris with a one armed hug. The Italian shook his head ruefully at his friend's antics but couldn't help the small smile that curled his lips as he saw the two prats stiffen as if they had just been slapped.

"O'er here, O'er her, I 'ave a real treat for y'all t'day!" Hagrid's voice boomed out from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the group of Third Years meandered towards the large man who was standing in a paddock that extended back into the forest behind him. "Is e'eryone here? Righ' then, I'll be back in a minute." With that their instructor wandered off into the forest behind him while the students waited making idle conversation.

Good as his word, Hagrid returned after a few minutes to an assembly of gasps and a few girlish squeals as he approached with a small herd of hippogriffs. The hybrid creatures wore thick leather collars around their necks to which were attached a lead of iron links that the large man tied around a few trees.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid beamed excitedly as he approached the class again, "Beau'iful creatures they are but righ' proud too. Yer got to be real careful wit' how ye handle 'em. Any volunteers?"

The words had barely left his mouth before Iris stepped forward eagerly, Blaise had never known the girl to be overly fond of magical creatures but he couldn't say he was overly surprised either. He had heard about the way she had handled the pixies last year when they had run amok during Lockhart's lesson.

Hagrid seemed pleased that he had a student as excited as himself and beckoned the Gryffindor forward, giving her a steadying hand as she vaulted over the paddock's fence and stood at his side. "Alrigh' then, wha' I'll do is go an' fetch one of 'em and all ye have ter do is walk towards it an' bow. If he bows back then ye can pet him but if he don't back away quick like, understand?" He waited for Iris to nod her head before he patted her on the back gently, which to everyone's surprise only sent her staggering forward a step before she caught herself.

With care the groundskeeper took the iron lead off one of the hippogriffs and led the creature forward so that it was about in the middle of the paddock before he took a step back so he wasn't crowding the animal while he waved Iris forward, "This one 'ere is Buckbeak, c'mon and remember to bow."

Blaise had to admit that it was rather impressive to see Iris walk towards the animal without any hesitation; even from his position outside the paddock he could tell that the talons on the hippogriff's forelegs were wickedly sharp and the beak with its predatory hook was probably even more powerful.

It was entrancing to see the slight girl bow deeply to creature without ever looking away from its amber colored eyes, for a moment he felt a stab of fear grip his chest as the beast raked the ground in front of it as it cocked its head to stare at her but after a moment it seemed to come to a decision as it bent its forelegs and bowed back to her.

Hagrid was the first to applaud as Iris stepped forward and ran her hand over Buckbeak's sleek grey feathers, tickling the underside of the magical creatures jaw with her other hand. Soon the rest of the students were climbing over the paddock and approaching the other hippogriffs under their instructor's supervision.

So far Blaise was impressed by the large man; many of the Slytherins had been impugning the groundskeeper's ability but so far he had proven rather competent in his field even if the book he had selected had proven near impossible to open. As he climbed over the fence, the Italian noticed immediately that something was off; Longbottom wasn't with his usual group of sycophants, in fact they were watching with a mix of apprehension and fear as he strode towards Iris and Buckbeak.

A deep sense of foreboding settled in the pit of his stomach and without waiting for Draco he jogged to head the boy off but he could already tell that there was too much of a gap between them and Iris wasn't watching her back as she lavished attention on the hippogriff in front of her. Blaise broke into a sprint hoping he could get there quick enough to stop whatever it was that was about to happen.

Buckbeak saw Neville first and stiffened under Iris's ministrations which was the only clue the girl had before she turned and saw her Housemate striding purposefully towards her but the boy didn't have his eyes on her but on the hippogriff. He was staring right into its eyes and was way too close without having stopped to bow, she could feel the bunching of muscles underneath her palm and already he was rearing up.

Neville realized his mistake far too late as the hippogriff rose up on its hind legs, wings outstretched; utterly dwarfing him in size as he froze, eyes riveted to talons that could easily eviscerate a mere child.

Blaise pushed everything he had as he leaped forward, tackling the Boy-Who-Lived bodily and carrying him forward and to the ground. Behind him he could feel the vibration as Buckbeak's forelegs came down and impacted the ground that Neville had occupied not even a moment before.

Iris was trying to calm Buckbeak as she stroked the white dappled grey feathers of the hippogriff's neck while Hagrid was coming over. Blaise waited until they had the situation in hand before he rolled off of Neville and climbed to his feet, turning to give the other a hand up he never saw the fist that slammed into his eye.

"The bloody hell you think you're doing Zabini!? Attacking the Boy-Who-Lived like that! You'll be expelled for this!" Neville was shouting, his face red with fury and embarrassment; he had been trying to impress Iris by showing how fearless he was, that surely _he _of all people didn't need to bow. Instead the hippogriff had tried to attack him, would have succeeded too because for all his training he had frozen up.

And then he had to be rescued! Him! By a snake of all people! He remembered what Artemis had told him over the summer, Slytherins were dangerous; too many of their parents had been involved in the last war and gotten away with their misdeeds. There was no telling which of their children had been indoctrinated to believe the vile epithets of the defeated Dark Lords were virtues.

Blaise reeled back from the punch, would have fallen if Draco hadn't caught him and steadied him; already he could feel the swelling as he glared balefully at the boy who was shouting at him for saving his skin. Oh, how he wanted to hit the stupid Gryffindor! To knock him off his high horse but he knew it would be pointless, the boy's ego was too massive to learn the lesson. But perhaps he might learn from a different one.

"We'll see who gets punished for this Longbottom. As far as I see it, you just attacked the person you owe a life-debt to. I shall look forward to seeing what the Head of House Longbottom is willing to do to make up for this insult!" Blaise let the scathing words fall from his lips and quietly took pleasure in what the blood drain from Neville's face before he spun on his heel and marched towards the castle.

Draco looked stunned for a moment before he caught Iris's eyes and saw her jerk her head towards their quietest friend, nodding at her silent instruction he followed after the boy but not before he saw the malice in Longbottom's gaze as he watched Blaise walk away.

He had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to end well. And it was still just the first day of class.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So if anyone's wondering where this chapter was, suffice it to say that I got very sick and being sick while on chemotherapy is a very bad thing. But I'm healthy again and nearly done with chemo so cheers to that.

To more interesting matters, I've taken some liberties, as many do, with regards to Arithmancy. I apologize to those of you who want me to adhere strictly to the canon but for the rest, I hope you enjoyed it.

**Next Chapter: **_What __Boggarts are in your Closet?_


	24. Chapter XXI

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **Thank you all for your continued wishes of support and for the many reviews, favorites and follows that this story has received. I've got a small announcement that will be at the bottom of the chapter in my closing notes but for now read and enjoy!

**Caution: The end of this chapter is rather gruesome, there is a reason this story is rated M.**

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XXI**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland**

The first week of class at Hogwarts passed by in a flurry of activity, for many of the Third Year students it had served as a gut check as various professors lectured on the importance of study as they approached the Ordinary Wizarding Level exams. The students suddenly found themselves swamped with homework that demanded more from them than ever before, answers straight from the book weren't good enough anymore as they were asked to apply theories and concepts beyond the lessons.

Not to mention one particularly zealous Gryffindor Quidditch Captain who had taken it upon himself to make the lives of his team nearly unbearable with his dreams of claiming the school's Quidditch Cup in his final year. Of course the fact that he had made it into some of the professional training camps over the summer (as a participant and not a gate crasher) hadn't done anything to quell his fervor for the sport; in fact it had done just the opposite.

He had used his experiences to devise a training schedule unlike anything Iris had ever seen before, which was saying something considering this was the second time she had shared a team with the fanatic. After having their season prematurely cut off last year he was determined that they would begin the new season with nothing less than their best effort, so he had every one of his players up and on the pitch at the crack of dawn running laps and performing calisthenics for an hour before they even got into the air in an effort to see them faster and better than ever before.

But it wasn't the extra homework or the pre-dawn exercises that were stressing Iris out; she had already lived through the homework once and while she found the assignments were tedious they weren't difficult nor were the sheer joys of flying diminished just because she was sweaty before she soared through the air.

Instead it had been the tension and animosity that had sprung up overnight following the first day of class. She should have expected it really; the previous year had been fraught with suspicion where no one knew who to trust, a single summer away from the castle would not undue all the damage that had spiraled out from Grindelwald's horcrux.

As it stood there was an astonishing amount of hostility between Slytherin and Gryffindor, not that it was particularly uncommon for the two houses to be less than cordial to one another but the level of violence that had sprung up was more akin to a late year Quidditch game with both Cups on the line.

And it wasn't particularly hard to identify the source of the sudden tension in the school either.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

Life-debts were serious business in the magical world; they had been the tangible links that had bonded families together over generations, forging alliances that had shaped and molded history. Likewise, the balance of a life had proven to be the undoing of Houses Ancient and Noble; much blood had been spilt over the centuries in the name of power.

For many Purebloods the control and power that a life-debt holds is enough for them to respect them but for those who held to the Old Ways, there was no bond more sacred. It was the Goddess herself recognizing the deeds of her Children, for someone in a life-debt could not willingly or knowingly allow grievous harm or death to befall their benefactor without their own life being forfeit until such a time as the debt was repaid.

So when Neville struck Blaise after having been saved he had broken tenets long revered by many ancient families but even for those who did not follow the Customs and Laws of the Children it was unseemly for someone to attack a person that had just saved their life.

However the tension was only exacerbated by what was happening beyond the walls of Hogwarts, months had passed since the Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban and the Ministry had made no gains in locating or capturing the fugitives so the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been ordered to raid wizarding homes in an effort to find them.

Frank Longbottom as the Head of the department had been singled out by the press as the man responsible for the raids and his competence and ability had been lambasted over the week. A few articles had appeared that had detailed how the DMLE was operating on a budget that shrank every year with an understaffed Auror office that was overworked to show the Daily Prophet was 'unbiased' in its reporting but the truth had been mostly buried in the minutia.

Between the two incidents the scion of House Longbottom had found himself the target of a small but very vocal group of students, mostly Slytherins who had been conspicuously present whenever the child celebrity had an 'accident.' It had been ignored at first but after Neville had returned from the Hospital Wing after having his arm broken when he 'tripped' down the stairs on his way to dinner one night the Gryffindors had tightened ranks around the boy. The situation had escalated to the point that the boy was escorted to and from class by now less than four Seventh Year and the barren, unused corridors of the castle had seen new life as fights broke out between the older students.

Iris had found the entire situation particularly frustrating as all over the place imaginary lines had been drawn; half her friends were suddenly no longer welcome at Gryffindor table, not even her position as the team Seeker would get them to budge on letting anyone with a green lined robe sitting on their benches.

So denied her friends' company at meal time she had done the next best thing, she had tried to join them amidst the towers of books in the library only to find that their favorite table was occupied by Slytherins, not just her friends but older students that had looked at the lion on the breast of her robe and pulled their wands. It had only been at the insistence of Blaise and Draco that the older students had provided them the clemency to depart without having been hexed.

The greater insult had been when she had gone to _their _tree, the ancient willow that stood on the bank of the Black Lake with its view of the castle rising out of the waters; it was her haven at Hogwarts, an island of tranquility in what had always been a tempestuous life. This was a place she had shared with her closest friends and now the dark boughs were occupied by smirking faces that looked down at her with an almost vindictive glee for having stripped her of the bastion.

Blaise had sat amongst them in the bows with Draco, the golden eyed boy had looked down at her with a look of grave sadness when he read the hurt and betrayal in her eyes but he had made no effort to climb down to greet the Gryffindors despite his best mate's furious gaze.

Daphne had taken the seat that had been formed amidst the roots of the tree that allowed her to hover above the calm surface of the loch; it was a rather tricky spot to get to and it provided some measure of solace that it was a friend in that spot rather than one of the others. It had been her pointed gaze that drew Iris's own to the damp robes that had been left in the sun to dry that hinted that some had tried and had failed, whether by themselves or been helped into the frigid lakes was anyone's guess, unless you could see the smirk that turned the lips of the pretty blonde girl.

By week's end it had taken a considerably effort on Iris's part to not lose her temper, the viscous beast that she had inherited from her mother, and unleash a storm of hexes upon the heads of certain students.

Partly, it had been because she didn't want to deepen the rift that had sprung up deeper than ever between the feuding Houses though she had given quite the tongue lashing to a few of her own Housemates for their actions, a few of the prefects had even had the decency to look ashamed for it too but Longbottom had been the last straw.

"Don't take it out on us, Potter, that you boyfriend has decided to show his true colors! He attacked me, remember? They started all of this, we're just defending ourselves!" Neville had waited until the Third Year had finished dressing down the most active Gryffindors in his 'protection' detail and the Common Room was focused on her before he made his little comment.

The gathered lions had watched with bated breath as Iris turned slowly to face the boy, the week of early morning runs had left her skin sun kissed and her vivid green eyes seemed nearly luminescent now that they reflected the light from the fireplace; with her wild black hair cascading in gentle waves, soft ringlets, and hard lines she captured a striking beauty that would only grow more pronounced in a few short years.

"Firstly Longbottom, dissuade yourself of the notion that Blaise is anything more than a close friend of mine; one who your petty rivalry with has prevented me with even speaking to! I'm sure that even someone like you who has the emotional depth of a teacup can appreciate what it would be like if someone else's row meant that you couldn't even speak to Ronald!" Iris began cuttingly as she advanced on the poor boy who had suddenly realized his grave error in attempting to have it out with the girl.

"Secondly, he saved your life! Even if your family no longer practices the traditions of our ancestors, the very least _you _could do is respect them! You threw the first punch! It would have been in his power then to declare blood feud upon your House as the last heirs of your families and then just as easily strip you of your magic!" Iris ended the last part in a whisper that still managed to find itself in the ear of every student in the Common Room.

"And lastly, what are you defending yourselves against? The last time I checked, this whole bloody mess started because you were getting pranked. And what was the first thing you did when everyone was picking on poor little Neville? You came crawling to the House to protect you! Did you even bother to show a bit of spine and try to handle it yourself? You couldn't last a week! Some Gryffindor you are!" Iris's words were cutting, she knew the moment the words left her mouth how hurtful they were but she also knew they had to be said.

Neville had grown up in the limelight for a deed he had not even done, his mother's sacrifice and love had been the cause of his survival but all the attention had gone to his head; he was just as bigoted and egocentric as Draco had been in Harry's time and she owed it to the sweet and caring Neville who had stood up to Death Eaters from that time to make this one a better person. Even if she had to be hurtful to make him see reason.

Silence hung heavy in the Gryffindor Common Room as Neville stood with a gob smacked look on his face as he looked on in shock at having someone so brusquely smack him down, his face contorted into a look of outrage as he opened his mouth to retort but one look at those glittering green eyes and the words died in his throat unuttered.

He had been about to say that she didn't know what it was like to have the animosity of the school directed towards her but that was a lie, practically everyone had thought she was behind the attacks last year and had been made into the pariah because of it. She had been twelve when it happened and she hadn't backed down, hadn't gotten looking to a teacher for help or begged the protection of the House. She had stood and taken it all and then she had gone into the bowels of the school and saved him from a decidedly wicked fate.

But he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the people of Britain owed him for putting an end to the Blood War that had risen up at the emergence of Voldemort and his master Grindelwald; no one should look at him without respect, he had earned it!

But if that was the case, why did the Dementors invoke his mother's plea that he be spared in exchange for his life? Why did he see the flash of green light that so looked like Iris's eyes at that moment in all her anger?

Shutting his mouth and looking around, Neville saw some of the older students and many of the younger students nodding their heads in agreement with Iris's words; they were looking at her with respect not because she was entitled to it but because she had earned it.

When was the last time he had earned anything? He couldn't rightly say.

And with that realization, Neville turned on his heel and with as much dignity as he could muster; he climbed up the steps towards the Boy's Dormitories in full view of the House and slipped into the room he shared with his friends. As the door shut behind him he didn't notice the quiet discussions that had blossomed in the wake of his departure as he flopped down on his bed.

He had been lying back on his bed for a few minutes before the door opened and the heavy footsteps of his best mate sounded out as he closed the door behind him and crossed over to his own four poster bed beside Neville's. The mousey brown hair boy heard the squeaks of Ron's mattress as the taller boy sat down at the edge, offering his friend an ear in the way that teenaged boys do; with a grunt.

It took Neville a few moments to work up the courage but eventually he sat up and looked at the ginger-haired boy sitting across from him; with a weary sigh he rubbed his hands over his face before speaking, "She's right isn't she? I've been a right git haven't I?"

Ron shuffled his feet nervously, he knew better than anyone that Neville had a short fuse and could go off at the drop of a hat but he also knew that his friend needed to hear the truth, "A bit mate to be honest, she made a good point. A few actually."

Neville looked at his friend with a glare but it had no real weight behind it, "I suppose I deserved that but it's hard!" The brunette whined, "My whole life I've been told that I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, Vanquisher of Grindelwald, the next Albus Dumbledore, destined for great things!"

"Nev, I'm not saying it's the same or anything but my whole life I've been compared to my brothers; Charlie's the next in line to take over the biggest dragon preserve in Europe. Bill's made a name for himself as a hell of a curse breaker for Gringotts and Percy's Head Boy this year. Even as loathe as mum is to admit, she's even proud of the twins, she wishes they took their schooling more seriously but she's pleased they've got a passion and they're good at it; she always got this little smile on her face whenever Professor Flitwick sent a letter home about one of the pranks they pulled.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I know what it's like to have so many expectations on you, all the time and that no matter what you do; someone's always going to be measuring you to see if it's good enough." Ron took a steadying breath after having rushed through all of that, he had never said it of course but he knew that his mother had high hopes for her youngest boy and it had weighed heavily on him.

Neville for his part looked a bit shocked at his friend's sudden outpouring, he had never really appreciated what kind of pressure his friend was under and of course he hadn't made it any easier lording over him with all of his celebrity and whatnot. He had been a lousy mate to the boy that had befriended him in that compartment on the train to Hogwarts.

"No, you're right Ron; I've been nothing but an arrogant and selfish prat, letting my big head get in the way of everything. I took everything around me for granted, even my friends. I never thanked you for what you did our first year, helping to get us through those protections around the Stone and then dealing with all of my foolishness last year. I owe you an apology Ron Weasley and a debt I can never repay." Neville said solemnly as he held out his hand to the other boy.

Ron was taken aback at the sudden display from Neville and his ears turned red in embarrassment as he shook his head, "You don't owe me anything Nev, it's what any friend woulda done!"

"Exactly Ron and any friend worth having would have appreciated that face far sooner than I did!" The brown haired boy said meaningfully as he left his hand hanging in the air between them.

Ron took a moment to process those words before he took up the hand and the boys shared a firm handshake, the weight and symbolism left unspoken between them but both knowing full well that things had changed.

As they got ready for bed, Neville looked over at Ron and caught the boy's eyes in a strong gaze; "If I start letting all of the fame get to my head and start acting like a…"

"Dunderhead" Ron supplied with a light grin.

Neville laughed and nodded, "A dunderhead then, set me straight would you?"

"Oh, you can trust me on that, wouldn't want Iris to have another go at you. I hate to have to find a new best mate 'cause she picked you apart." Ron agreed as they finished changing into their pajamas and climbed under the comforters of their beds and bid each other good night.

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><p>By the second Tuesday of the term things had settled somewhat among the Houses, tensions were still high but the Gryffindors had ceased their attempts to antagonize the Slytherins and were now solidly sticking to just watching the backs of the younger students as well as Longbottom.<p>

The sudden change had not gone unnoticed by the teachers, especially Minerva McGonagall; it was her job after all to watch out for her lion cubs and to know the inner workings of her House. So it didn't take long for her to hear about the elder Potter sister taking the House firmly to task for their behavior and the dressing down that she had laid upon young Mister Longbottom.

Many of the staff were wondering how long the cease fire would last before the hostilities picked up again, even the Transfigurations Mistress had her reservations on how long Miss Potter's words would echo in the minds of her fellow lions before something new stirred up the hornet's nest. If her prediction held true then it would be the announcement of this Junior Dueling Club that Albus had Filius putting together, once word got out that there would be a school sanctioned club with teacher supervision that encouraged students to bloody one another; the whole school would descend into pandemonium.

Not that there weren't already whispers and hints, after all it had only been just that afternoon that a teacher had been pulled out of their own class by the new Counselor that Albus had provided. And of course it had been Professor Riddle, who admittedly wasn't the warmest man to be around but he was certainly a fair bit more polite and civil than the acerbic Potions instructor.

It had taken very little prompting from her to get Lavender Brown to divulge the events of her afternoon class in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

By her account things were going as usual, Professor Riddle was sitting at his desk in the corner of the room marking papers while Professor Lupin began explaining that they would start their first lesson of the year by studying boggarts.

From Miss Brown's descriptions it sounded to Minerva that the two men had struck up an easy working relation, Remus would handle the theory while Riddle worked through his paperwork and they shared the floor during practical lessons.

In any case, Lupin had been just about to begin his lecture when Counselor Sinclair entered the classroom. For all her lack of academic drive, Miss Brown was a rather observant girl (she would to see about getting the girl to pay her classwork the same diligence she did fashion) because she was able to describe the Counselor's perfectly coiffed blonde hair, the powder blue robes she was wearing over a white winter dress and her matching heeled boots.

Artemis had greeted the class warmly and apologized for the interruption before she had cut through the classroom and approached the professors, whatever words had been shared had been behind a privacy ward that had kept the students from hearing (of course by Miss Brown's account, there hadn't been any need since the students would never have attempted to eavesdrop).

The discussion had only taken a few moments but the reaction had been startling, few of the students had ever been on the receiving end of Professor Riddle's ire, normally he only handed out detention to students who failed their exams or had carelessly cast a spell that had injured or nearly injured a classmate.

Except for Iris of course, he handed her detentions like they were candy which was odd since the girl was at the top of her class and there wasn't anything in her file about the girl having been disciplined by Riddle. In fact, by Minerva's accounting the majority of the points the girl earn for her House were directly attributable to Riddle's class and Potter had never complained to her about being unfairly singled out by the Defense instructor. It was all very curious.

Regardless, all of the students had seen Riddle just about lose it with the counselor and even Lupin had seemed shocked at what was going on because as soon as the privacy ward had come down, Artemis had turned to address the class again.

"As all of you are aware, Professor Lupin has recently received his Mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts with a specialization in Dark Creatures. This has proven quite beneficial for you as the Third Year curriculum deals extensively with the handling of such creatures, as such Headmaster Dumbledore and myself feel it prudent that Professor Lupin should take over this class.

"That is to say he will act as the primary instructor for all Third Year classes so any assignments, detentions, or marks that he dictates should be seen as final unless you wish to appeal them with myself or the Headmaster." Sinclair had announced, essentially telling the class that Professor Riddle was being cut out of his own classroom.

The Counselor had then pointedly looked at the Deputy Headmaster and waited for the man to file out of the classroom before she followed him, though she had stopped to whisper something to Iris that had made the girl stiffen and then follow the blonde woman's exit with narrowed eyes.

That too Lavender hadn't managed to hear and her questions had only gotten Iris to say that the Counselor wanted to see her about something. Minerva of course knew that the Artemis was conducting interviews with all of the students that had been affected by the attacks the previous year and between Liatris Potter's attack and Iris's own misadventure in rescuing Neville Longbottom; the girl was definitely on that woman's list.

Still, the situation with the Deputy Headmaster didn't sit well with the Transfigurations Mistress; she was quite fond of Remus, how could she not be when he had been one of her own cubs. He had grown into a good and fair man who had stood by his friends during a terrible conflict and then helped to raise their children as if they were his own.

But he was new to teaching in a classroom environment and despite his qualifications there was no guarantee that he would fare well under the pressure, Severus proved that a Mastery was not enough to make a good educator. Minerva could only wonder if thrusting so much responsibility at Remus so quickly was the appropriate action despite the faith she had in the werewolf.

She had never been one to oppose the Headmaster; he had ample wisdom and experience as a teacher, a fact she knew first hand as he had been her instructor in his youth. His instruction and guidance had been invaluable and his dedication to the Light and the good of humanity were unquestionable, he had after all defeated Grindelwald and ended years of bloody conflict in the Great War before he had taken up the mantle of defending the Magical World again against Voldemort and his master.

However, she worried that her mentor had taken too much upon himself, the Headmaster position alone was difficult enough to manage even with a Deputy but Albus was also balancing the challenges of being the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.

McGonagall pulled herself away from her thoughts with a heavy sigh as she looked out at the courtyard that her private office looked out over. There she could see the students sitting outside, enjoying the remnants of warm weather before winter rolled in and claimed the Scottish highlands that held the castle. The stern old witch turned her attention back to the parchment that was resting on her desk that had led her thoughts down their meandering path.

"I hope you know what you're doing Lily," Minerva muttered softly as she looked down at the elegant scrawl of one of her favorite students before she took up a quill and began to pen her reply, "I've a terrible feeling about all this."

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><p>Thursday arrived with all the pomp and ceremony that it deserved which, for those who would be spending the morning hours in the bowels of the castle in the cold and damp confines of the dungeons with their Potions Master, was none at all.<p>

Iris trudged along the stone corridors with a certain amount of resignation, after the events in the Vault she had found that the dank passageways filled her with trepidation. She felt the palms of her hand moisten with sweat as she felt the ghost of fathomless dark blue eyes staring at her from the shadows. With a hard line to her mouth, the young witch clutched at the strap of her bag that was slung across her chest and violently shoved the memories back into the shadowy recesses of her mind; it was enough that she replayed the events at night without having to see them during her waking hours as well.

Turning one final corner the potions laboratory came into view and with it a congregation of Third Year students that were staring fiercely at one another. An undeclared line bisected the corridor such that the Gryffindors were on the right side of the undoubtedly locked door to the classroom while the Slytherins were on the left.

It was easy to see who was leading in the staring contest, Neville was standing defiantly with his arms crossed and glaring at Theodore Nott who was matching the intensity of the other boy's stare with a smirk twisting his handsome features.

Nott was possessed of a squared face but it suited his strong jawline and the delicate nose and cheekbones that gave him a certain roguish quality. His thick dark hair had shades of browns and reds that offset his hazel eyes and tanned complexion. His height and broad chest added to his dashing good looks and thus it was no surprise that the fourteen year old was talked about heavily in certain circles.

Unfortunately the boy was as bigoted as they came, spouting his pureblood supremacy to anyone that he considered inferior, and he had a mean streak a mile wide.

From the tension hanging in the air it was all too apparent that the boys had been having some kind of argument, rather surprising since she hadn't caught a word of it echoing through the dungeons. She discovered why a moment later as she approached and ended up walking through the edges of a silencing ward, an uncomfortable pressure settled in her ears for a moment as she crossed the barriers of the spell and gave an involuntary shudder of discomfort.

It was the downside of her magical sensitivity, even when she wasn't actively tuned into the world of colors and music that her Magesense gave her she could feel magic; some were quite pleasant but others were considerably less so. She was hoping that at some point she'd be able to sense wards before she got within inches of them so she could avoid moments like these.

Hermione raised an eyebrow questioningly and Iris muttered something about privacy wards and inconsiderate gits that made the bushy haired brunette smile behind her hand as they drew closer to the standoff.

"Well c'mon Longbottom, let's see it! We've all heard it before, trained by Hagen Metzger was it? Surely you wouldn't be opposed to putting on a bit of an exhibition for us; we're all dying to see if you can actually handle a wand!" Theodore was smirking quite nastily now as he looked at the Longbottom heir with unhidden contempt.

It didn't take an alchemist to put the scene together, Nott was baiting Neville into drawing his wand and casting a spell whether because he wanted a chance to humiliate the boy personally or because he was hoping that Snape would emerge from his classroom and catch him in the act was debatable but neither outcome was good.

He must have been doing a fairly decent job of it too considering that Ron was being restrained by both Dean and Seamus to prevent him from launching himself at the boy. The young ginger was practically frothing at the mouth to have a chance to swing on the Pureblooded git, and he would swing on him too; Ronald when sufficiently incensed always moved to physical violence rather than draw his wand.

On the other hand, Neville was surprisingly calm as he just stood there and allowed his death glare to bore into his adversary. Oh, he wanted to draw his wand of course, his wand hand twitched as though it desperately wanted to be holding the shaft of wood that would allow him to wipe the smirk off of Nott's face but he was displaying an amazing amount of self-control in restraining himself.

Iris had to admit that she was mildly impressed considering that she, or rather Harry, had participated in a fair number of hallways duels with an equally if not more bigoted arse than Nott was. Then again many of them had been spurred by defending the honor of the Muggleborn witch standing beside her so without that incentive maybe it was easier for Neville to resist the temptation.

"Well this can't possibly end well." Hermione muttered crossly as she watched the two boys gauging each other before she evaluated everyone else in the hallway, her mind putting together the scene that would unfold.

Once Ron got free of his minders he would charge at the Slytherin and immediately take a spell to the face and that would prompt Neville to draw his wand, as soon as that happened Seamus and Dean would back him up and all havoc would break loose as it devolved into a fight between Houses.

The brunette said as much and Iris quietly concurred, "Guess we'd better do something about it then shouldn't we?" the raven haired witch put forward as she flashed her friend a smile that was more teeth than anything else before striding purposefully into the middle of the fracas.

Hermione released an exasperated sigh and shook her head in disbelief, grumbling angrily to herself about having friends that were more brass than brains. Iris snorted at that considering that her rankings were among the top five in their year, then again she did have an unfair advantage over the others.

The pair drew the eyes of just about everyone in the corridor as they stepped into the middle of the brewing altercation, Iris knocking firmly at the laboratory door as they did so. For Hermione, it was a decidedly uncomfortable experience to have all that attention focused on her and she couldn't help the blush that rose into her cheeks as well as the twinge of jealousy she had as Iris stood there nonchalantly seemingly oblivious to the situation.

"Ah, why if it isn't Potter and her pet mudblood! I was wondering when you'd show up to save Longbottom," Nott drawled as he looked at the newcomers appraisingly ignoring the sudden stiffening in the girls' posture as his gaze flitting between them and the Boy-Who-Lived while he considered how he could work their presence to his advantage.

"Y'know we're all quite curious about what happened last year Potter, the way you managed to track down Longbottom after the Halloween feast; it almost seemed like you've got a sixth sense for him. Then all that business with the attacks, why is it that when the fat lump disappeared you were the only one who managed to track him down?"

Iris didn't need to look around to see that Nott's words were having a tremendous impact on the students as she could feel their gazes settling on her, even Neville and Hermione were looking at her with a quiet intensity as the fell victim to the boy's ploy. Bugger, he played this game much better than Draco had in her other life.

"I don't see why it's any concern of yours Nott but if you must know it's because I have an exceptionally strong sensitivity to magic." To emphasis her answer, Iris reached out to her magical core; that deep well of energy that resided within her and hovered at the edges of her awareness.

Dipping a metaphysical finger into the ether she could feel a slow expansion of her senses; colors were suddenly more vivid, sight was brought into stark relief, she could hear the breaths of everyone around her, she could smell the vanilla shampoo that Hermone used and the starch in Theodore's collar as well as the way that the cool air flowed around her.

And over this hyperawareness was magic, she could feel it running through her and pulsing through the walls of the castle; she could feel the pounding of the cornerstone in the depths of the dungeons that would take her to Vault like a pulse as well as the static hum in the distance that were the wards that protected the castle.

"For instance, I can tell you that it was Parkinson that cast the privacy ward over this hallway so your dispute wasn't overheard. I can also tell that used a Breath Freshening Charm this morning instead of brushing your teeth Nott." Iris enjoyed the look of surprise in the boy's face that gave him away before it disappeared behind an angry glower, still it was long enough that people had seen it and there was tittering laughter at his expense.

Letting go off her Magesense was difficult, there was very tangible sense of loss as her senses returned to those of mere mortals but she bit back on the sigh that threatened to escape her as Nott glanced over her head at Neville.

"A neat parlor trick Potter but what's all this about your heroics then? Did you really come face to face with this 'Judge' just to save Longbottom's arse?" Nott's haughty glare said it all really, he didn't believe for a moment that she had done anything of the sort.

Truthfully, if their positions were reversed she would probably have felt the same way but she had the nightmares to prove that she had not only come face to face with the remains of Helga Hufflepuff but also Dementors, a basilisk, mountain trolls and two different Dark Lords as well as their followers. All in all, she didn't rightly care if he believed her or not, she had nothing to prove to the spoilt Death Eater spawn.

"Frankly Nott, I don't see any reason to indulge you any further. Why don't you run along and polish your wand before I embarrass you again?" Iris replied with a sneer as she dismissed the arrogant boy.

Nott fought back the snarl of anger that had worked its way up into his chest at the Halfblood's quip. Glowered vengefully down at the girl he drew himself to his full height to loom commandingly over the witch, "Now, now Potter; no need for all that nastiness. I'm sure if you behave nicely I could show a jumped up Halfblood like you how a real wizard breaks in a witch. Maybe I'll even show your Mudb-!"

He didn't get the chance to finish his statement as Iris all but threw herself at him, he was suddenly very aware of the girl pressed up against him; how her hand was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck and her chest was pressed against him so that he could feel the swell of her breasts. She was looking up at him with those brilliant green eyes through the long black lashes and she was inching her lips closer to his own.

'Just like Father said, Mudbloods, Halfbloods, show them the power and superiority of being a Pureblood and they'll throw themselves to ride your broomstick.' Theodore thought to himself with a wicked grin before the air was snatched from his lungs and pain burst into being behind his eyes.

He wheezed and fell to his knees, his hands moving to cover his injured organ as a collective gasp and flinch came from the gathered male student body.

Iris was smirking nastily down at the boy and pointedly use a sanitizing charm on the knee that she had driven into the wizard's groin, "I'm sorry it seems I've rudely interrupted you, would you like to continue?" Iris waited a moment for dramatic effect before she crouched down so she was at eye level with her victim.

"In that case allow me to retort, you're pathetic Nott! All that rubbish about putting Halfbloods and Muggleborn in our place and look where you are. On your knees and in front of a witch no less; that reversal must be harsh on your delicate sensibilities." Iris mocked the wounded boy who was staring at her most hatefully as he struggled to regain his composure after having his dignity so thoroughly stripped from him.

"It really is a shame Teddy dear, you really are rather handsome. Your behavior though, utterly unattractive." Iris tsked as she pat him on the cheek like he was a little boy, "You best shape up, the next time I hear such foulness coming out of your mouth I'll drop you for the whole school to see."

Nott opened his mouth to say something but was cut off abruptly as the door opened and Severus Snape stepped out of the classroom and glared scathingly at the assembled students, before looking down at the two students on the floor with a raised eyebrow; question left unspoken.

"Theodore got tripped up Professor, I was instructing him in proper etiquette and reminding him that running wild was a poor idea." Iris stated simply as she drew herself up and adjusted the sling on her back as she stood beside a shocked looking Hermione.

The greasy haired professor looked down at Nott, taking in the boy's position, the flush of humiliation in his cheeks and the way he was staring with outright loathing at the green eyed witch. He sighed mentally but when the boy rose shakily to his feet and didn't offer a rebuttal he simply nodded and turned on his heel, moving to the front of the class with his trademark black robes billowing out behind him.

The students filed into the classroom slowly; talking in hushed but animated whispers over the fight they had seen this morning.

Hermione followed her friend to the front table and glanced around the room, noting that Daphne and Draco had taken the table to her left and she greeted the blond pair with a smile that they returned. Her eyes continued to rove around the classroom until she spotted the much darker skin of her Italian friend sitting in the rear of the classroom beside a fuming Nott.

Brown eyes met gold and she was about to smile at him in greeting before he wrenched his head to the side and fixedly kept his eyes on the board. Hermione frowned at the blatant attempt to ignore her and looked again at Nott to find the pureblood glaring at her with unveiled contempt and rage as he muttered something softly to Blaise.

Golden eyes flickered back to her and then back to board as he gave a response, while not overly expressive Hermione got the impression that her Slytherin friend was keeping an even stonier expression than normal.

She returned her attention to the front as Snape began his lecture on the Shrinking Solution they would be brewing but she only half-listened as she worried about the boy in the back of the room. She hadn't failed to notice who had surrounded the boy over the last couple of weeks, Nott had firmly attached himself to the Italian along with his usual group of friends.

It was troubling because while Blaise came from a wealthy family and was a pureblood he had no political connections in England so it made little sense for him to be given the kind of attention he was receiving. So in Hermione's eyes the only other prospect was that they wanted to use him for something and she had a strong suspicion it had something to do with this life-debt he had hanging over Neville.

As Snape pointed his wand at the blackboard and the instructions for the potion appeared in his cramped, spidery hand Hermione busied herself with setting up her ingredients as well as her textbook in case this was one of his "Did none of you read the book?" lessons.

"Did you see who Blaise is sitting with?" Hermione whispered to Iris quietly as the raven haired witch set up her cauldron and began to fill it with conjured water from the tip of her wand.

The girl glanced over her shoulder and looked at the back of the classroom through the veil of her hair for a moment before nodding at the bushy haired brunette.

"It's not right is it? We know Blaise comes from money and that his family can basically appoint the Italian Minister of Magic but they've never been so…_focused_, on him before." Hermione muttered as she began to chop at her ingredients carefully.

"No, it isn't right. Draco has been saying that the older students are definitely up to something and he can't figure out what specifically. Still, I can find it in me to be too concerned, if it was something serious and their plans involved Blaise then he would tell us." Iris replied nonchalantly with a shrug as she began to add sliced caterpillars to her cauldron, Hermione blinked for a moment as she looked at her friends antics and then up at the board and then at her book before looking back at the other witch utterly bewildered.

"Umm…Iris, what if he can't tell us? And what are you doing? You're supposed to add the Shrivelfig juice first."

"There's no reason why he can't. What do they have to hold over him? We're practically attached at the hip so it won't be us. Draco has his two pet bodyguards and his father's protection so they won't go after him. Daph's untouchable, her father is the Director of St. Mungo's the largest privately owned hospital in England and her mother is the niece of the French Minister of Magic.

"And Lia is always with Pol when she isn't with us so they've got no one to threaten and none of us is stupid enough to go anywhere with someone we don't trust." Iris explained quietly as she tapped her cauldron with her wand and increased the temperature bringing the water to a boil as the liquid slowly began to haze with pink before she began to work on peeling her Shrivelfig.

Hermione continued to watch her friend's actions while she followed the directions and began to stir her potion clockwise while she considered the girl's logic. She had to admit that they were all fairly well protected but even then there were always opportunities to separate or corner them, far too many opportunities for her Iris to be so flippant. So why was she…?

"You're planning something yourself aren't you? You'd never be so cavalier with Liatris's safety otherwise. Spill!" Hermione demanded quietly as she removed her glass stirring rod and wiped it clean before tapping her cauldron to raise the heat.

Iris leant in closer as she slipped her peeled Shrivelfig into a vial and began shaking the fruit to release the juices, "It's quite simple 'Mione, after all the trouble I just went through putting Nott down he's going to be eager for revenge. I'll give him the opportunity, on my terms and when he takes the bait I'll get the information that I want."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing and was about to say so when a sudden bout of snickers from the back of the class drew her attention. Twisting at the hips to look at the offending clump of Slytherins who were holding their guffaws behind their hands she managed to catch Nott elbowing Blaise in the ribs lightly as he laughed. The golden-eyed boy didn't deign to notice his lab partner as he continued to brew his potion in silence though he did glance up to meet her eyes for a moment before he quickly looked away again.

"I hope you know what you're doing. Nott might be an ignorant bigot but he's no slouch with a wand and there's no way he'll come at you fairly." Hermione muttered angrily as she turned back around and began using her knife to chop up her daises with more enthusiasm then was strictly necessary as she imagined the delicate flowers were Nott's fingers.

Iris nodded her agreement with a thoughtful frown of her own as she slipped her shrivelfig into the blood-red waters of her cauldron, the concoction quickly shifting to a bright yellow as Snape approached their workstation. The sallow skinned professor looked first at Hermione's potion and gave a satisfactory nod before looking at Iris's.

The man was quite skilled at controlling his facial expressions but Hermione still managed to catch the blink of surprise and the twitch at the corner of his lips as he inspected the canary yellow potion that was slowly darkening as Iris tapped the cauldron to bring it down to a simmer.

"An interesting recipe Miss Potter, wherever did you get it?" The potioneer asked the question with a surprising lightness as he looked at the young witch with what might have been fondness.

"My mum taught it to me a while back when we were helping a neighbor with an overgrazing issue, she told me an old friend had shown it to her." Iris said with a knowing twinkle in her eye that actually made the Professor give her an exceedingly small smile before he wandered off and immediately began to snap at Neville and Ron for getting their potion ingredients mixed together.

Hermione stared at the side of Iris's head and waited for an explanation of that little exchange but the girl only gave her a shrug as Neville walked angrily passed their table to get fresh ingredients from the student's storeroom. With an indignant huff that made Iris giggle quietly she resumed to work while Snape took points from Ron for grumbling loudly while he set about cleaning his potion station.

The snickers amongst the Slytherins were unrestrained this time as they openly mocked the pair of boys in the back of the room for the point loss, turning back to glare at the worst offenders Hermione noticed Nott sliding his wand into the pocket of his robes without taking his eyes off of Neville, a vicious smirk playing across his features as he watched whatever was about to happen with an eager anticipation.

'Bugger, this isn't going to end well.' Hermione thought to herself as Neville dropped a piece of wormwood over his cauldron as he did his best to tune out the Slytherins laughter and the jeers they were directing his way. She watched with a rising feeling of dread sinking into her stomach as her eyes tracked the falling herb as it fell through the air.

She watched as it hit the liquid with a plop and stared for a moment, it was like First Year all over again as she had watched Ron get smacked down by the monstrous chess pieces. That feeling of helplessness welling up within her as she didn't know what to do, a crushing hand that gripped her lungs painfully and wrenched her gut into knots.

A clinical part of her brain reasoned that there was nothing she could do, she was across the classroom and without knowing what Nott had done there was no way of knowing where to begin fixing the problem. And while she acknowledged that it was true and that it had only been a matter of seconds since she had realized what was about to happen she could not stop the surge of guilt that sprang up in her.

There was a soft whump of rapidly expanding gas muffled by liquid and then Neville's cauldron buckled as boiling hot potion surged up and sloshed over the Boy-Who-Lived. His cry of pain sheared through the classroom as his exposed skin took on an unhealthy red glow as blisters formed before their eyes, swelling with fluid before splitting open and coating his skin with viscous yellow pus.

Hermione gagged as bile and gorge rose into her throat and a foul smell permeated the room to accompany Neville's howls of pain. The brunette turned away from the sight and shut her eyes as she swallowed back down the contents of her stomach and took several deep breaths.

In her distraction she paid no heed to Snape's yells as he sent Ron to escort Neville nor did she hear the guffaws of the wretched children that delighted in seeing the 'savior' suffer. She focused instead on the soothing circles that Iris was rubbing into her back while the green eyed witch met Nott's gaze, memorizing the satisfied smirk on his face and the vindictive sneer that he directed her way.

It was a look that said 'See what I did?! I can hurt you _and _get away with it!'

It was unfortunate that Iris still needed to drag information out of the boy or she would have let all her masks drop in that moment. She had walked to her certain death with calm and allowed the most powerful Dark Lord of all time throw a curse at her without flinching; she had a different name then, a different body even, but being the Master of Death was etched into her soul.

If she had fixed the boy with the stare that she was capable of, Nott would have pissed himself in terror and never let himself be alone in her presence. That was integral to discovering his machinations though she suspected the schoolboy's devious plot was a trifling matter considering the threats that were waiting beyond the castle's wall. She couldn't dismiss him out of hand though, Draco had taught her that much though it had been Harry who learned the lesson.

She replied with a smirk instead and a look that said 'What? Was I supposed to be impressed? Try harder sport.' The dismissal when she turned her back on him was the crueler insult though since it told him he was so small a threat she could turn her back on him without fear.

Theodore's face darkened with rage as he drew his wand again, 'How _dare_ she!? Assaulting me like some filthy muggle and then disregarding me as if I was the one beneath her! She will suffer for that!' His father had shown him just the curse for teaching the filth to respect their betters, leaving the shaft of oak at the girl's back he was about to whisper the incantation when a crushing hand seized his wrist and shoved his arm down so it was hidden by the worktable.

"Mister Nott, I do hope you weren't thinking of cursing a student in my class. Sabotaging Longbottom's potion is one thing but openly attacking a student and _that_ student no less would be most unwise. I'd have no choice but deduct points from my own House and you know that I don't like doing that, don't you?" Severus Snape whispered softly into the dark haired boy's ear as he tightened the grip he had on the boy's wrist until he could feel the grinding of the bones underneath his fingers.

Theodore winced in pain as he felt his Head of House squeeze painfully until he nodded his head in affirmation, "Good, you will do well to emulate your father and uncle. They understood that you only strike when you have the advantage and when you are not likely to get caught. Cunning, Nott, cunning is what wins the day." Severus hissed as he released the boy's wrist and straightened so that he was bent over the child's shoulder.

How he despised the Nott brothers, they had been favored by the Dark Lord; the pair of them had been talented assassins and interrogators. They had also been utter cowards, the moment a battle had turned against them they had fled to safety and they consistently avoided punishment by foisting their failures on others.

Truly disgusting and utterly disgraceful, he knew that the only reason his Lord had ever suffered them to live was because their skill set made them valuable as had their coffers. Theodore and his elder cousin were of the same cut of cloth as their fathers, and it seemed that young Theodore had set his eyes on Iris Potter as his next victim.

Severus recalled those frosty emerald eyes that had peered up at him from the face of an eleven year old, the age and weight that existed in them had been terrifying. He recalled that same child laying in the Hospital Wing as Albus explained that the compulsion he had laid on the girl to protect Neville Longbottom had caused an unexpected development, indeed a child slitting the throat of a possessed teacher was anything but expected.

That was the intellect that Theodore wanted to attack, a child who had taken a life at the tender age of eleven and one who radiated magic. The Potions Master didn't know whether he should fear for the boy or hope he succeeded, for all that he loved Lily; her eldest child terrified him.

* * *

><p>To those in the know, Hogwarts's rumor mill is a finely tuned machine with cogs to be found in every House and Year. Unfortunately, each of these cogs often takes it upon themselves to introduce new gossip and with different points of view and different embellishments it is more accurate to say that something happened rather than try for any actual substance in the tale.<p>

So by the time lunch was over the story of what had happened in the dungeons was something like; Theodore Nott and Neville Longbottom were involved in an honor duel over the hand of Iris Potter, the duel had ended with Neville in the Hospital Wing from an especially nasty curse and Nott on bended knee proclaiming his love for Gryffindor's Princess.

That none of it was close to the truth mattered little to the student body.

Iris delighted in it though and with a few whispered words to the right person it was easy to spread word that Theodore was quite smitten and had even been willing to give up his family name and holdings to be with her. It was easy to see when the ripple of misinformation reached the Slytherin's ears because he had glared at her from across the length of the Great Hall with every intent to see that she dropped dead.

She had just smirked and blown him a kiss in return as she grabbed her bag and left for her last class of the day, a double period of Defense with Hufflepuffs and her Uncle Moony.

Admittedly she was rather nervous about this particular class session, Boggarts weren't especially dangerous creatures to the prepared witch or wizard but in the right hands or rather the wrong hands the information that they could unveil had the potential to be incredibly damaging.

For the witch this was especially true, she wasn't just some thirteen year old teenager with a teenager's fears. It wouldn't be a spider that emerged from the wardrobe that would be her keenest fear and somehow she doubted that it would still be Dementors, the soul sucking creatures were still able to draw out her despair and the darkest of her memories but she had learned new terrors since the last time she had come face to face with a boggart.

So it was with a great deal of trepidation that Iris walked into the Defense classroom, the normally crowded room was strangely barren as the desks were pushed to the edges to create an empty space in the middle of the room. At the front was the large and heavy looking piece of furniture with its darkly stained wood, trembling as the creature inside of it sensed the presence of people.

Iris set her bag down on a table and leaned back against the hard surface as the other students filled in before Remus closed the door behind them. The werewolf looked around and took a headcount as he prepared.

Lupin stood in the middle of the empty space and addressed his audience, "Welcome to your first practical lesson of the year, as you'll remember today we will be handling boggarts. Before we get too carried away, I want to remind you all that you have an essay do on Tuesday describing the proper way to approach an identified boggart, contain and remove it.

"Now then, a brief recap of boggarts. Does anyone know what a boggart looks like? Miss Granger." Remus nodded at the brunette who was practically quivering at Iris's side in eagerness to respond to the question.

"No Professor, boggarts as described by the Ministry are non-beings possessed of the ability to take on whatever form you find most terrifying." Hermione responded with relish while Iris smiled at her friend indulgently.

Remus chuckled himself, "Yes Miss Granger, take five points for your answer. So suffice it to say that the boggart behind me has yet to assume a form but will do so the moment I open the doors of the wardrobe. Mister Finnegan, what defeats a boggart?"

Seamus flushed at being called out but quickly composed himself before replying, "The _Riddikulus _spell professor."

"Not quite, while the spell is used for defeating boggarts it isn't strictly necessary. Would anyone like to provide the answer for a shot at some points?"

"Laughter, Professor." Zacharias Smith said from his place off to the side of the classroom, smirking as Hermione subsided in disappointment at someone else giving the answer.

"Correct Mister Smith, take five points as well. Laughter is what ultimately defeats the boggart to that effect the aforementioned spell forces the creature to take on a form that we find humorous. Therein lies the challenge, to properly cast the charm requires concentration and thought even in the face of what you fear. An uncommonly difficult task I assure you but it can be done.

"Mister Finnegan, since you gave us the spell you'll be first up. Now then, let's begin." Remus clapped his hands together with a reassuring smile as he tapped the radio he had set off to the side and a jaunty, lighthearted tune began to fill the classroom as the young Irishman approached the closed wardrobe which began to rock from side to side.

Giving the boy a pat on the shoulder for encouragement, Remus took a step back and gestured at the wardrobe with his wand. A sharp click could be heard as the furniture unlocked and from the confines emerged a woman with floor length black hair in a dirty white dress. Her face was skeletal with empty eye sockets save for two pinpricks of glowing blue light.

She drew a raspy breath and then there was an otherworldly scream, it sounded of pain and misery, despair and sheer terror.

Iris could feel the wash of magic that blanketed her like a clammy hand, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up as gooseflesh ran the length of her arms. A sudden nausea roiled in her stomach and lights began to dance in her vision before she managed to get her hands up and cover her ears.

Others in the class reacted similarly as they clamped their hands over their offended ears while Seamus needed a nudge from Dean to snap him out of the grip of fear as she shakily raised his wand and cried _"Riddikulus!" _In his urgency to make the screaming stop it seemed that his thoughts caused the boggart-banshee's scream to sputter out and descend into a hoarse coughing fit.

Seamus seemed to find that funny as he chuckled at the green skinned woman's hacking coughs which made the banshee's back stiffen and with a small "Eep!" she darted back into the wardrobe, the door slamming behind her with a bang.

"Well done Mr. Finnegan, well done indeed!" Remus congratulated the teen who heaved a breath of relief but seemed to have a satisfied grin on his face as he walked to the back of the classroom to hearty backslaps from his friends.

The class proceeded in a similar manner, a student would step forward and collect themselves for a moment before Remus opened the doors and a fear would emerge to be confronted before it was conquered and sent running back into the dark.

There were a few surprises for Iris since the last time she went through this lesson, for one she was more affected by some of the creatures that emerged then she had expected to be. Like the boggart-banshee she could feel the simulated magic at work and by the time half of the class was done, she was drained from having her magic senses essentially smacked every time something with a nasty aura walked out.

The other surprises were likewise unpleasant as some of the fears that her classmates had were different than they had been. Like when Hermione stepped up in front of the class for her turn and Professor McGonagall didn't step out.

Lily Potter did, the beautiful red haired enchantress had emerged looking serene and gowned in her favorite pale yellow sundress. She looked about the room curiously for a moment before setting her sights on Hermione and grimacing. The look was so _wrong_ on her mother's face that Iris couldn't comprehend it for a second as the boggart stepped forward and sneered down at Hermione.

"What do you think you're doing at Hogwarts Hermione? You've failed every exam! You've failed to show that Muggleborn deserve a place right beside those Pureblood bigots!" the faux-Lily's voice was soft but the words were cruel and the disgust that filled them was as biting as any shouted reprimand, "You're not worthy to be a witch! Do us all a favor and snap your wand before you disgrace yourself any further!"

The bushy haired teen was stricken as her greatest fear came to life in front of her, Lily Potter was beautiful and intelligent and one of the most compassionate people she had ever met. She had proven simply by existing that Purebloods like Nott and Parkinson were wrong, even the Dark Lord had courted her allegiance because she was so formidable an adversary. And she had said that Hermione was worthy of being a witch, that she was undeserving of the magic that had been gifted to her.

Such was Hermione's grief that she didn't notice when Iris came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her back against her in a comforting embrace. "Hush 'Mione, y'know mum thinks the world of you." The raven haired girl's voice was soft and soothing as she spoke in a voice that only she could hear.

"B-but she said…" Hermione trailed of brokenly as Iris squeezed her arms and rested her chin on the older girl's shoulder, "That's not mum 'Mione, you know that. Besides it's wrong, you're the cleverest person I know and my best friend; there isn't anybody in this school more worthy of being a witch than you."

The brunette clung to Iris's clasped hand like a lifeline as she replied with a shaky voice, "R-really?"

Iris could feel tears of her own prick her eyes at the desperate tension in her friend's voice, she nodded and hummed affirmatively without moving her head from the other girl's shoulder, "Really! Now remember how mum looked when she made us those biscuits last summer?"

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes as she scrubbed away the silvery tear tracks from her face with the back of her hand before she raised her wand and looked at the sneering woman in front of her. She took a deep breath as the simulacrum began another cutting spiel, _"R-Riddikulus!"_

There was a soft pop as Lily Potter's dress was suddenly covered in flour and her face had a streak of smeared butter from her cheek to her chin and she had a tray of misshapen chocolate chip biscuits on it. The sight and the happy memories got the pair of girls giggling at the display and with a yelp of surprise the boggart-Lily tossed the tray over her head and jumped back into the wardrobe.

Iris pulled Hermione into a one-armed hug and walked the girl over to the side of the classroom and fixed the class a glare that dared anyone that wanted to face a painful demise to make fun of her friend.

The Gryffindors politely looked away but some of the Hufflepuff students like Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot gave her approving nods and smiles, loyalty was a prized 'Puff trait after all.

The class continued on in a more somber mood after that, it was all the proof that Iris needed to recognize that as young teenagers the rest of the class was not prepared for dealing with adult fears. It was also a reminder for Iris that for all the memories that she had of a strong and independent Hermione who had endured torture and suffered at her side through a war, the witch she was comforting was just as emotional and wracked with all the insecurities of any other developing witch.

By the time class drew to a close and everyone filed out of the classroom it was just Remus, Hermione and Iris left in the classroom. "You're the last one Iris, I know you're probably looking forward to freshening up before dinner but I'd like for you to face the boggart so that I can give you a mark for the day."

The green eyed witch shook her head and was going to refuse when she felt Hermione tug on the strap of her back and pull it off her shoulder. Her eyes were still a bit bloodshot from her crying earlier but she still managed to pull off the _look_ that said she wasn't getting a bad mark.

Iris considered her predicament for a moment but finally relented, if she couldn't trust these two to see her fears than who could she trust?

"Alright Uncle Moony, let's get this over with." Iris ground out reluctantly as she flexed her forearm and felt her holly wand slide out of its holster and drop into the palm of her hand. Stepping forward to the spot that everyone else had stood on that afternoon, she cast a look over her shoulder and saw a pair of eyes looking at her warmly and giving her reassuring nods.

Iris turned back to the wardrobe and shook her head, 'Let's see what horribly scarring terror I've got in my head nowadays.' She thought grimly to herself as she heard the soft click of the wardrobe unlocking.

The wooden door swung opened and exposed a pitch black interior; Iris raised her wand and unknowingly slid into one of the dueling stances that Riddle had drilled into her as she waited expectantly for some kind of horror to emerge.

Seconds ticked by and then a minute with nothing emerging from the dark confines of the wardrobe, finally she turned around to look at Remus and a scream caught in her throat.

Moony was affixed to the wall, his arms held above him as stakes of silver were hammered through his wrists. Blood ran down his arms in rivulets disappearing under the tatters of his robes until it dripped from his bare feet onto the floor and merged with the pool that had gathered below him. His chest was mangled, she could clearly see that his ribs had been shattered and the word "werewolf" had been carved so deeply into his flesh that she could see muscle and viscera through the gaping wounds.

Hermione was even worse as she dangled from the ceiling like someone's horrifying interpretation of a marionette; hooks were buried into the flesh of her joints and gossamer threads ran up into some kind of wooden joist. Her uniform was nothing more than ripped blood-soaked rags that did nothing to cover the witch any longer, leaving the bare skin of her most intimate places exposed.

The young witch moved jerkily as the strings that held her aloft were manipulated so Iris could see the girl's face, where there had once been eyes of the warmest chocolate brown were gaping holes with bloody trails running over too pale cheeks.

"Why did you do this to me Iris?" Hermione asked with a voice laden with agony, hoarse from screaming.

"I-I d-didn't…w-wouldn't ev-ever…" Iris stuttered out brokenly as she looked at her best friend in horror before retched as the sight overcame her flimsy self-control.

"You did this!" Remus yelled at her with the fury of the wronged, the werewolf heaving himself forward so that his impaled wrists came free of their stakes with a sickening slurp that caused Iris to gag and heave as he fell boneless to the floor. Dragging himself towards her, Iris could see him trailing his intestines behind him from where they had slipped out from his ruined abdomen.

"No! I s-swear! Pl-please Moony!" Iris didn't know if she was begging him to believe her or if she was begging him to stop moving so he wouldn't hurt himself or if it was some combination of the two.

"Yes you did!"

Iris spun with her wand raised to identify the lilting voice that had come from behind her, the voice that had sounded so pleased as it spoke in sing-song.

She was not prepared to see the raven haired girl that was staring back at her with her own eyes and a manic grin on her face. The doppelganger's arms were covered from finger to bicep in the slick gleam of fresh blood, in her right hand she was playing with Hermione's eyes; rolling them in circles in the palm of her hand.

"You see Iris, you did it! You let Him in y'know." The doppelganger crooned as she walked forward, the scent of ozone and copper rising off her like some kind of biblical storm. "Just like you let Dumbledore in, you let Him in! Just like you let Grindelwald in, you let Him in!" The girl spoke quietly as she drew closer to Iris, the manic grin never slipping away as Iris felt her breath coming in shorter and faster.

Iris didn't need to know who he was as she saw the face of her doppelganger shifting, saw the nose disappear into serpentine slits as emerald-green eyes turned the color of dried blood. Distantly Iris could feel her lips tingling as her hands went numb and her wand slipped from her grip.

"I-I d-didn't! I-I w-won't!" Iris said softly, brokenly as she realized that she hadn't let Dumbledore or Grindelwald in either. They had taken; they had been in her head and _used_ her.

"Now you're getting it Princess. You're just up for the taking and once they've got you; who's to say what you'll do. But it'll be you that does it." The snake faced version of Iris grinned maliciously as she held up Hermione's eyes and crooned in that melodic sing-song voice, "So how do you like my pretty eyes?"

She knew she was falling, that she couldn't seem to get enough air. But it all seemed so far away as she was swallowed by oblivion.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So about that announcement, I've finished chemotherapy! It's been a long nine months but it's finally over and I want to express my most sincerest thanks for all the well wishes that I've received from you wonderful readers. They brightened my days and encouraged me even when I was feeling rotten as have all of the reviews and favorites.

Also, I highly recommend A Butterfly Effect by SlyGoddess to any of you who haven't read it yet. I find her writing to be excellent and very compelling so I encourage those of you who enjoy an incredibly well written romance story to check it out and give her tons of support! Let her know I sent you her way.

Anyway thank you all again for your best wishes, the critiques and words of encouragement, the favorites and follows, and all of the delicious questions that you send my way!

**Next Chapter:**_ Machinations, Deception, and Confrontation_


	25. Chapter XXII

Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, follows and favorites; they have continued to inspire my writing. This is a rather slow chapter but the setup is necessary for later actions so enjoy!

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><p><strong>Behind the Veil<strong>

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XXII**

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland**

Hospitals are paradoxical places. When people are sick or injured they go to them to be treated but they resent them because they represent the infirmity that necessitates their existence. The beds are clean and comfortable but they are seldom fondly remembered, the nurses and doctors are patient and helpful but remain politely distant.

The Hospital Wing at Hogwarts was no different in those regards.

Lily had never recalled ever being fond of this particular room despite the fact that she liked and respected Madam Pomfrey. For all that she had disliked the place as a student she had found that as a parent she utterly loathed it now. The too clean scent of antiseptic, the too white sheets that covered the beds, the too quiet atmosphere; everything about the room was a bad reminder of how her daughters spent far too much time here.

Liatris had spent the final weeks of her last term at Hogwarts under magical stasis because she had suffered grievous wounds that would not heal and caused her unbearable amounts of agony. Iris had only left her sister's side to attend classes and meals and even then she had been ousted by the Healer and dragged about by her friends than do it willingly.

Of course, the Potter heiress had also spent an inordinate amount of time from her own injuries. Broken bones, torn muscles, dislocations and sprains; Lily could not understand the draw of playing Quidditch with the toll that it extracted from the body and her girl wasn't even fifteen yet. If it weren't for magic she was certain that by thirty Iris would have been moving about like an old crone.

But it hadn't been a fall or a bludger that had put her eldest in the detestable bed she was currently tucked in, her face a serene mask as her dark hair flowed across her pillow like a pool of ink. Lily was carding her fingers through that chaotic mane as she perched on the edge of the hospital bed staring over her daughter's sleeping form at one of her longtime friends, eyes a thousand shades of green fixed on the bright brown eyes of the Assistant Defense Professor.

"So you're telling me a _boggart_ managed to hospitalize my daughter? And then she put you and her best friend in the hospital too?" Disbelief colored Lily's voice since she couldn't fathom a boggart of all things being dangerous nor could she see a point in time where Iris would attack her uncle and her best friend.

"In essence, yes. There were other factors involved but that wouldn't be an inaccurate summation of events." Remus quipped with a forced smile as he tried to inject some levity but the fierce glare that the enchantress levelled at him was more than enough to make him agree to give it up as a bad job.

"From what I saw and Madam Pomfrey diagnosed, Iris suffered a panic attack that was precipitated by the boggart. Upon blacking out her magic, which we've always known to be strong, reacted by trying to defend her and it… well, it obliterated the creature and half the classroom with it. Miss Granger and I were knocked out by the overpressure." The explanation clarified events but from the way that the red headed witch stiffened it wasn't reassuring in the least.

"A panic attack precipitated by a boggart taking on her worst fears! What the bloody hell did she see Moony?" Lily's frustration and concern plainly evident as she looked down at her daughter's sleeping face before she glanced at the potions of Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep that the school's resident Healer had left at Iris's bedside.

"Honestly Lily… I've no idea." The werewolf sighed tiredly as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "The response that she had to the boggart was something you typically see in veteran Aurors. There were other cases like this following the last war, survivors of Death Eater raids and the like; my father kept very extensive notes on the subject."

"But what could Iris possibly fear to provoke that level of reaction? I now good and well that two bloody years ago that her greatest fear were snakes! What in Morgana's name has gone on in this castle that could make a boggart give her a panic attack?!" Lily didn't really need him to answer that question though and the wizard knew it as well so he wisely remained silent while he let the angry mother compose herself.

At age eleven, Iris had gone through a number of obstacles that had nearly killed another student in order to prevent a shade of Grindlewald that was possessing a professor from acquiring a Philosopher's Stone. The professor apparently perished after the encounter.

At age twelve, Iris had stood vigil over her injured sister and then disappeared into the bowels of the school to return with the Longbottom heir after a protracted battle with the yet another incarnation of the leader of the Dark Reich.

It went without saying that her daughter had given them the highlights rather than the play-by-play but after those kinds of events; no one could fault her for not wanting to relive her experiences by asking for a more detailed accounting.

"I'll say this Lily, boggarts are creatures that feed on fear and I suspect that Iris has been worrying herself sick over facing one. That kind of anxiety would have been a feast for the creature and once strengthened it threw her worst nightmare in her face, ultimately her terror gave it more power and she was stuck in the loop until she passed out."

"I'm glad to know that you've a theory about this but why didn't you snap her out of it?" Lily snapped, her ire getting the better of her. She immediately regretted it as she saw her friend flinch from her angry words, "I'm sorry Remus, that wasn't fair of me."

The werewolf waved away her apology as he looked at her with tired eyes, "No, you're right. I know what Iris went through the last couple of years and I know her level of maturity isn't typical for someone her age. I should have realized that putting her in front of a boggart was going to be a bad idea but she's never shown any signs of trauma, I let myself believe that she was fine even when she was clearly distressed. I'm ashamed of myself!"

Lily loosed a mental sigh as she looked down at her daughter, the gears in her mind turning as she thought of the level of fear that would have been needed to provoke a burst of accidental magic in a thirteen year old and with enough force to destroy a classroom.

"No more ashamed than I. They have nightmares nearly every night, Remus. Lia… she talked to me about it, how she wakes up remembering how she was attacked and how Iris always got up to comfort her. She felt guilty about it at first but she started noticing that Iris was always awake before she was, so I put up a monitoring charm in their bedroom.

"I've been waiting for her to come to me but I know she won't, she the best and worst of me and James. Utterly stubborn and unyieldingly self-reliant; she'll take on the weight of the world and never complain even as it breaks her. How do we help her when she won't accept any?" Lily's voice cracked as she held back the tears that threatened to spill as she wrestled with her feelings of helplessness, watching the steady rise and fall of her daughter's chest.

"My dear, isn't that why you pushed for me to add a counselor to the staff this year?" Albus's voice was soft but kind and warm as he looked at the woman compassionately, the familiar twinkle in his crystal blue eyes far more subdued than usual.

Lily jumped in startled surprise at the Headmaster's silent appearance; she hadn't even heard the heavy doors open let alone close and from Remus's expression she could tell that he hadn't noticed it either. Her surprise quickly gave way to the surge of anger that welled up hot and fierce within her.

"Yes, indeed I did Professor. I had hoped that you would have put that estimable mind of yours to hiring a counselor with both the skill and experience needed for the post; instead you've hired a woman who's barely out of school herself! And a fraud at that!"

Under normal circumstances Lily's temper was quick to rouse and explosive, burning hot before dissipating abruptly. However, her daughter was in the hospital wing and Albus had more than likely been intruding on a private conversation so this wasn't exactly a typical fit of her pique.

"That's rather unfair of you Lily-" The Headmaster began but was cut off as the alumni rose up from her daughter's bedside and fixed the silver haired wizard with her fiercest glare, her emerald eyes afire as her magic swirled about her and made her hair dance in an unfelt wind.

"Do not take me for a fool Headmaster! Her records are impressive save for how none of the teachers at her school seem to recall an Artemis Sinclair and how the only two people who can recall her from her career at Her Lady's Grace Hospital are the Head of Pediatrics and the resident Psychologist but none of the orderlies or nurses do!"

Dumbledore's face paled beneath his heavy beard and long hair, in fact it would have been nearly impossible to tell that he had reacted to the revelation at all if not for the twinkle in his eye having guttered out and the fact that his hands were clenched firmly enough to make his knuckles pale to a bony white.

"There are circumstances that you do not know-" The wizened old man began but again he was silenced by another outburst.

"Of course there are Headmaster because you neglect to inform anyone of them! Do you think I would have allowed my daughter to come to this school if I had known that you had hidden a bloody Philosopher's Stone in the castle?! And then you've the gall to say that this was the safest place to protect it! A school full of children and a set of defenses that four First Year students could bypass!

"You were luring the Dark into this castle and you the vaunted master of Legilimency that you are could not perceive that your nemesis was playing parasite to one of your own teachers! Nor that some article had managed to possess your boy savior the following year!

"I've read my daughter's letters, Longbottom brags of how much attention you lavish upon him and yet you didn't think anything strange when his marks jumped from mediocre to near the top of his class overnight?! How is it that at every turn your failures seem to drag my children into the melee?!"

Lily's voice had started off loud and indignant but by the time her rant had come to a close it had softened to a furious whisper as her eyes bored into the old man's, daring him to take a peek into her mind and see just what she thought of him. To his credit, he didn't but that did little to soothe her at the moment as the Valkyrie smiled grimly as she had always done when triumph was at hand.

"As you can no doubt tell I've used my position on the Board to fully investigate what has been going on in this castle over the last few years. Your responsibility as Headmaster is to ensure a safe environment and the best education that you can provide. I'd say you've fallen well short of the mark in both of these regards and a number of the other Governors feel likewise. There will be a vote at the end of the academic year to determine if you should continue as Headmaster of this institution and I can assure you that if any more events take place that endanger the students, you will find yourself removed from your post!"

Remus had been watching the violent, one-sided exchange with a mixture of shock and disbelief; never in his life had he ever seen anyone take Dumbledore to task before and do it with all the righteous fury and indignation that Lily summoned up. He hadn't seen this side of the woman in nearly a decade, not since she had retired from the battlefield following the Blood War because sure enough that was the grim visage that had made Death Eaters rue the day they had ever taken their Master's Mark.

The Headmaster was deeply shaken by his former student's words even as his mind was working frantically to calculate the number of votes it would take to depose him as Headmaster permanently. She couldn't possibly have the clout as yet to knock him from his perch, not after a mere six weeks on the Board of Governors.

Then again she had gained her seat with Lucius Malfoy's backing and the arrogant pureblood had not only the money but the motivation to see him depart from the castle. If Lily, a respected witch and venerated hero of the last conflict, had indeed allied herself with the aristocrat then there was a good chance that she could deliver on that threat.

His position was vital to the continued safety and security of the Wizarding World, he needed to be able to watch over and mold young Neville so that he could play his role in defeating Gellert. His position at Hogwarts was necessary to keeping his spy safe as well as safeguarding Trelawney so she could not divulge the secret of the prophecy. And of course, he needed to keep Tom in check.

Lily, his wayward child, was threatening all of his carefully laid plans with her temper tantrum. Didn't she realize how catastrophic that would be? Didn't she know that he had dedicated his life to serving the Greater Good?

'_She is right though, you've many charges here at Hogwarts and you have failed them,'_ His conscience whispered, _'You threatened all of the children's safety by bringing the stone to Hogwarts. Twice in as many years you've allowed Gellert to threaten the school. And now you've allowed Death Eaters to go free.'_

Albus sighed morosely, suddenly feeling more tired than he had in a long time. He was cleverer than most men and his mistakes were often far more costly as a result of it; his pangs of conscience never let him forget those errors. But it was also necessary. So very, _very _necessary.

"You are, as usual, correct." Dumbledore bowed his head to his former students and allowed his eyes to linger on the pale face of the sleeping girl, "My lapses in judgment have endangered not only your children but all of the students here at Hogwarts. I would ask that you trust me but that seems over much considering the way things have run afoul."

_It was so easy to make Neville into the prophesized child when Gellert left that wretched scar upon his flesh but now… Gellert has an interest in the girl and so too does Tom, so perhaps this is how he has marked her as his equal. The Stone should have been enough to draw out the chosen one but in my haste to control Iris, both children went after it. _

"Miss Sinclair is on loan to me from the Department of Mysteries, she's a talented mind-healer who specializes in trauma and has extensive field experience. As you have deduced everything about her is false, from her face to her history, to ensure her identity as an Unspeakable remains protected.

"After my failures it seemed only prudent that I acquire someone for my staff that could satisfy your desires but also serve as another line of defense against the threats that exist considering my views on Dementors."

In front of their eyes it seemed as though the Headmaster was aging, he seemed suddenly frail and withered where he had always been a vibrant and enthusiastic man. Lily winced internally at seeing the man like this, she had long ago been disillusioned of his infallibility during the war and she didn't feel even a twinge of guilt for protecting her daughters but she also knew that it wasn't spite or malevolence that drove him.

He was simply human. Even if he forgot that he was.

"I will give you the benefit of the doubt Professor but what I said stands, if another child comes to harm as a direct consequence of your action or inaction then I will leverage everything I have to see you ejected from Hogwarts." The fiery tendrils of Lily's hair settled into their familiar cascade as her magic calmed but for all that she mastered her temper, the steel in her voice was readily apparent.

Dumbledore nodded graciously as he accepted her ultimatum without protest and departed from the Hospital Wing with a few murmured farewells. Lily watched as the old wizard walked away, she could practically see him spinning new threads to circumvent her words if anything did happen but she expected it off him. He was a politician after all.

She sorely hoped that she would not have to be the blade that severed those threads but somehow she knew she would be, otherwise it would be another far more dangerous individual that burned the tapestry that was England's magical community.

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><p>Monday morning brought a return to normalcy for Iris as she circled high above the Quidditch pitch looking for the gleam of gold that was the only indication of the snitch. A thick fog had begun over the lake and had spilled out onto the grounds, blanketing the world in a bleak gray and carrying a definite chill as her robes became laden with moisture.<p>

The last few days had been rather exhausting for the witch; it had started on the Friday after her boggart induced panic attack when she had awoken to her mother's presence at her bedside. That had actually been rather nice, even after knowing objectively that her mother had been with her for years there was still a part of her psyche that simply couldn't take it for granted.

Mother and daughter had shared a Hogwarts provided breakfast in the solitude of the Hospital Wing while Madam Pomfrey had busied herself with her diagnostic charms and talking about the advances in medicine with the enchantress. The pleasantness had lasted until Iris had been discharged and cleared for classes; Lily had given her a loving hug and departed through the matron's personal floo.

After that it had been stares and whispers, word had gotten out about the Defense class and how Iris had managed to destroy half the classroom; boggart, wardrobe, desks (the Weasley twins were very appreciative for destroying the teacher's desk and the essays within). She was rather accustomed to all of the attention and she let it roll over and off of her without being fazed.

It was the displays of concern that set Iris on edge; she had expected Hermione to stay close since it was in the girl's nature to be concerned and fretting. Likewise she was prepared for Liatris and Pollux making their presence known, it was even endearing to see two Second Years glaring fiercely at the more inquisitive students who had been looking to get the scoop on what had transpired.

Now though she was getting worried looks from some of the students, not the normal worried looks like when they were worried she was going to attack them or break out into a maniacal cackle. These were looks of worry that were _for_ her, like she was going to fall to pieces or breakdown crying any moment. It was… unnerving, to say the least.

So it was hundreds of feet in the air that Iris was finally starting to relax in the way that only flying seemed to accomplish, the way that her fears and concerns bled away as she hurtled through the air on the back of a broomstick. And perhaps it was because she was feeling so free when she caught the familiar figure sitting in the stands with his smoldering charcoal eyes fixed to her that she decided to push herself just a tad when she caught sight of the snitch below the visitor's hoops.

She drifted lazily through the air as though she hadn't picked up on the winged ball of gold before she executed a half sloth roll and yanked on the nose of her broom to drop into a near vertical dive. She rocketed towards the earth at speeds that reduced the world to shapeless blurs as all of her attention focused on her prey.

Her shadow dropped over her target like a hawk's and the winged ball tried to swerve out of her path but to little avail as her hand snapped out and seized it. With one hand on her broom she plunged into the fog below and pulled back sharply to level off, the shaft of wood vibrated as the braking charms tried to compensate for the sudden switch in direction.

She felt the wood buckle for a moment before it complied and executed a near ninety degree rotation that shot her like an arrow through the cloud of vapor, spiraling through a tight helix. The witch emerged from the fog like shark's dorsal fin before rising in a gentle arc so that she slowed to a hover behind her Captain who was peering down into the mist with apprehension.

"Hiya Oliver!" Iris chirped merrily with a Cheshire smile as she stretched out languidly over the haft of the Nimbus.

The Gryffindor Captain yelped and nearly unbalanced himself in his surprise, righting himself he directed an angry snarl at the girl but it lost its effect when his eyes shone with a mixture of relief and excitement. No doubt he was thinking about their prospects of having the Quidditch Cup with his name on it.

With a wink for the burly keeper, Iris banked and drifted over to the stands where the solitary figure sitting in the Family's Box was.

"I wondered how long you would let me sit here before acknowledging me," Riddle stated as the girl dismounted her broom and dropped the few feet to land gracefully on the wooden bench beside him.

"I considered letting you wait for two weeks but I thought that would have been rather rude," Iris quipped back with a meaningful look as she settled herself onto the bench.

The grimace that appeared on the man's face lasted all of a second before it was hidden behind an impassive mask but the witch was rather pleased at having managed to provoke it.

"It was not by choice I assure you." Riddle growled, "The Headmaster has decided to play a new game; he blames me for losing his hold over you. Admittedly he is partially correct in that assumption but there is no way for him to know that. Regardless he has seen fit to make sure we do not continue your sessions."

"What else did you expect? He lost his toy and now he's throwing a tantrum." Iris said with a shrug as she released the snitch and snatching it back as soon as it moved to depart, "The real question is what you have in mind to piss him off?"

The Deputy's lip twitched in what would have been a genuine smile before he conquered the expression, "It is troubling that I've become so transparent you."

The look he received in turn was one of amusement, "I've been studying under you for nearly two years; dueling, spellwork, parselmagic, even magical theory. Did you think I wouldn't learn how to read you in the midst of all that?"

'Valid point,' he conceded, 'With all the effort and time I've invested into her she should be as capable as any of my lieutenants, with a bit more training in the Dark Arts she could be more dangerous than Bellatrix.'

That was a frightening thought; Bellatrix had inspired nearly as much fun as he had in the last war. If he could get Iris on par with his strongest lieutenant's skill with her magical strength, the havoc that she could sow amongst her enemies would be titanic.

He did in fact smile at that thought, there were far too many teeth involved for it to be considered anything less than feral but Iris had seen that kind of fierce glee before and it no longer unnerved her.

"To answer your original question, I am under too much scrutiny to continue your lessons but I have secured you a tutor you should find more than satisfactory. Furthermore, she'll show you to a place where you can train in secret where none will interfere. You'll have to make your own excuses for your absences though."

"Shouldn't be that difficult, I've vanished for hours at a time since I started at Hogwarts. No one is going to question it now." The witch replied with an easy smirk as she looked out over the pitch as her teammates started heading for the locker rooms.

"No one was looking too closely before; Dumbledore will be paying more attention as will his new lapdog." The way that the Professor practically spat out the last word was evidence of how much he disliked the new counselor.

"Sinclair hasn't brought me or Lia into her office yet but she has started with some of the other victims, especially Longbottom. He's had a scheduled visit with her every Wednesday afternoon from what Lavender has mentioned; apparently it's been helping him deal with everything that transpired last year."

"I'm sure it is helping him. People often find it cathartic to confide their weaknesses in others and allow themselves to be reassured with empty platitudes."

"I suppose you're not a fan of therapists then." Iris said with a wry smile that faded away when she looked at the man's grim countenance.

"I'm not a… fan, of expressing weakness. If you must have a confessor, then make sure they cannot betray you." Riddle nodded sagely at his own advice, his eyes distant as he peered into the realm of memories.

Iris recalled the adders of Warwickshire and how she had expressed her worries, her weaknesses, to them. Thankfully there were few who could speak to serpents and fewer still who might think she would confide in them.

"So it's safe to assume that whatever is being shared with her in confidence is being divulged to the Headmaster then."

"Undoubtedly yes, Albus as you know has few qualms when it comes to what he believes is best. Law, morality, ethics, these are just words in the face of his 'Greater Good' so I wouldn't put it past him to learn every secret that passes from a student's lips and into Sinclair's ear." Riddle shrugged nonchalantly as he spoke, unfazed by the depravity that he spoke of with clinical detachment.

"I'll make sure Lia is aware that she shouldn't trust the Counselor any farther than she can throw her. I should probably make sure she's still doing her Occlumency exercises too while I'm at it."

"Well-reasoned. Sinclair is purported to be a mind-healer; Legilimency would be within her realm of expertise and if she is actively working to assist the Headmaster as I believe than it wouldn't out of the question that she might go rooting around the heads of the students."

The blood drained out of Iris's face leaving it milky pale as the memory of the boggart cropped up before she could suppress it. Voldemort, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, all of them had pierced the sanctum of her mind and violated her in the basest way possible. The very idea of someone doing something so vile to the students was sickening in the extreme and roused the dark flame of her hatred.

She seized that wicked heat and clung to it, felt it fill her with its strength as it whispered promises of destruction and pain for those who threatened her.

Riddle was taken aback by the sudden shift in Iris's aura as her magic surged, the familiar scent of impending rain was lost to the strong smell of ozone and the distant growl of thunder. He turned his head sharply and watched as the girl's eyes shone with their eerie light and the flecks of gold turned to rivers.

He could practically hear her power singing in the air; seductive and rapturous in its call to arms. He could feel his magic roiling in his veins, eager to answer and lay waste to her enemies, eager to dance and revel in the wake of calamity. It was difficult for him to maintain the firm control he had over his magic.

It was more difficult still to maintain control over his composure.

Sinclair had accused him of trying to seduce the girl into his bed. The very notion had filled him with rage; not that he hadn't committed many atrocities and had even more done in his name but to suggest that _he, _the man who revered power and strength more than any other would attempt to control it with little more than amorous supplications. It was laughably naïve, obviously concocted by the old fool's preaching of love and redemption.

If he was going to seduce the girl it would be in much the same manner that she was doing now because if he, who had neither her sensitivity for magic or her gift of magesense, could feel his body responding to the enthralling power at her beck and call… what would it be like for her to be surrounded by his unholy might?

No, she was still a student, a mere babe learning to walk amongst a realm of Titans. He would let her sample his magic when she was prepared. Where was the fun of conquest if there was no challenge to it after all?

Iris returned to herself slowly, reluctantly, as she regained control of the tide of magic and redirected back into the deep well that existed within her. The release of her magic was exhilarating, even spurred by the dark edge of her hatred and desperate to raze everything that opposed her will; it was a level of elation a hundredfold what she felt in flight.

Such exaltation was costly, her bones throbbed painfully and her nerves tingled with pain from the overstimulation. She knew if she turned to her magesight she would find the conduits that her magic ran through within her had widened in preparation of wielding the vast reserves in her core. It would require tremendous amounts of concentration today to perform even the simplest feats of magic without overpowering her spells.

"Would you like to explain where that little outburst came from?" Riddle asked with honest interest though the undercurrent of mordancy in his tone was a subtle rebuke that she accepted graciously.

"As my confessor would you swear on your life and magic to never betray me?" Iris rejoined after a moment as she considered the question with a seriousness that was uncommonly adult for a teenager and yet something that had defined their every interaction.

"You learn quickly Potter." Riddle complimented with an actual smile on his face as the girl flushed slightly at the praise. How humorous. "To answer your question, no, I shan't be giving you such an oath. There is no telling where the future will take us and swearing my allegiance to a thirteen year old isn't exactly prudent. Even if you are a prodigy."

She rose with a nonchalant toss of her hair and smiled at the professor, "I figured as much, and for the same reason I shan't be giving away my weaknesses." Mounting her broom, Iris turned her emerald gaze to him once more; "I'll be expecting a note for where I am to meet this tutor that you've arranged in the near future Lord Slytherin." Kicking off with a playful smile the girl lanced through the air as little more than a crimson blur as she shot for the locker rooms.

"Impertinent chit," Riddle muttered fondly as he stood and looked around the box they had been sharing. He grimaced at the wooden benches that had warped and splintered beneath the sheer weight of her magical onslaught, with a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation they began to right themselves only to fall to pieces again. "Prodigy indeed!" He murmured with a sigh as he called an elf to take care of the mess.

* * *

><p>As the counselor for Hogwarts, Ariana had been given a suite of rooms on the third floor that overlooked the quad and were roughly equidistant from all of the school's Houses. Her office had been designed to create a welcoming and safe atmosphere with its cream colored walls and the thick, plush carpets; even the furniture was made from a lightly stained elm rather than the darker woods that were favored by many of the professors (because of ink spills).<p>

Being new to the castle had made things difficult for her initially, few of the students were willing to open themselves up to an unknown entity so her first week in the castle had been spent reassuring homesick first year students and making inroads with some of the more troubled students who had been sent her way. The hours that she had suffered through offering words of comfort and being a shoulder to cry on had been well spent however.

Word had spread of her warm demeanor and gentle disposition along with her open-door policy; after years of students only being able to steal a few moments of time from their Heads of Houses during their office hours, having a member of staff whose job was to be available at all times had been a nice change.

It was hardly a surprise that some of the first real challenges came from the Hufflepuffs, hard work and loyalty was their creed and her function fit nicely with those ideals. So she found herself beset by children wearing the yellow and black trimmings of the badger as they turned to her for solace when there insecurities flared, looked to her for aid against bullies, and sought her out for her advice.

Rationally, she knew that the pleasure she derived from helping the students was merely a reflection of Albus's own desire to protect and aid 'his' children but if she allowed herself to forget that for a moment it was almost like being human. It was a pleasant delusion but ultimately still a falsehood and were she human that might have caused her distress but since she wasn't all she could muster for her situation was apathy or a mild happiness at her own existence; also reflections of the Headmaster's emotions.

By the end of the third week of class she had found herself greeted openly in the halls, mostly those from Sprout's House but a few Lions and Eagles had taken to her as well. The only students who had yet to step through her door were those bearing the silver and green of Slytherin.

Not that it was unexpected; there was nothing cunning or ambitious about seeing the castle's resident mind-healer. The very concept of it was anathema to the aura of strength and elitism that the Viper's Den wanted to project and anyone who broke rank was inviting a dagger in the back. So the reaction had been predicted but it was inconvenient for the Headmaster's plans.

Thankfully, teenage hormones could be relied upon to create openings when circumstances normally wouldn't. This was why a very angry young man was sitting in the leather chair on the other side of her desk, his arms folded across his chest and a recalcitrant expression on his face as he peered at her.

"Hello Mister Nott, I'd like to say it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance but considering the circumstances I think we'll agree that it would be a false sentiment." The blonde woman said from the wingback chair she was casually reclined into, a sheet of parchment in her left hand.

Theodore smirked as he shrugged in response to the woman's proclamation, "If you say so Madam Sinclair, I would think any circumstance to make your acquaintance would be quite fortuitous."

The boy's flirtatious smile and easy tone was quite good for someone his age, undoubtedly given a few more years he'd be a heartbreaker but for even a fledgling Legilimens he was practically shouting his contempt. For Ariana who had all of her creator's memories and skills, she could peer into every wrinkle of his mind; all of his secrets and desires were open to the tendrils of thought that she was projecting.

"I doubt your father would agree Mister Nott. Nor would your uncle I believe. A pureblood Slytherin getting caught past curfew sneaking out of the Restricted Section with a book on the Dark Arts." Ariana didn't need to scan the boy's surface thoughts to know that his father would be displeased at learning this information.

Tacitus and Nero Nott were vicious as schoolboys having learned from their father Thaddeus that ambition could be achieved with ruthlessness and a disregard for societal niceties. It seemed that Theodore had learned at the same school from the flash of memory that she saw of a young boy being put under the Racking Curse.

"The real question Theodore is what were you planning on doing with La Mars' _Codex of Combative Magicks_? The spells it contains are not the trifling cantrips that Lockhart peddled in that sham of a dueling club but the means to inflict grievous injury and death." Ariana withdrew her mental probes to the surface of the boy's mind where imagination laid while she spoke.

Almost as soon as she finishing speaking, the Nott scion was conjuring up indistinct images, people screaming or crying or silently gritting their teeth against pain. These were conceptualizations of suffering, amorphous in their abstraction at undirected but from these imaginings came a picture with the clarity of memory.

A House Elf standing in a crowded ballroom, a silver platter at its feet with shards of crystal lying in a dark stain of what had presumably been a pristine rug of some value. The frail thing was cowering in fright as a throng of people gathered around it, a wordless cry of rage punctuated the scene as a beam of crimson energy lit up the air and case vaulted chamber into a stark relief.

Ariana was familiar enough with the Cruciatus Curse to know it by sight alone, the sanguine bolt with its corona of blinding white; so she knew before the spell connected what was going to happen. The spindly limbed creature began wailing as it was assailed with overwhelming pain, its high pitched screams rattled the chandelier above but it did little to deter its attacker.

A second flash of crimson joined the first and after a few heartbeats more came a third and a fourth. Each new beam brought more pain to the creature as it convulsed in silent agony, its voice unable to express its torture.

From Ariana's perspective, she could see as blood dribbled out from the elf's bat-like ears, its nose and mouth had rivulets flowing from them as well as crimson tears. And then it stopped writhing, its chest ceased to rise in the great heaves as it gulped down air when the pain permitted it. Its eyes glazed as life fled from the tortured being and sought respite beyond the Veil.

The memory changed then as it took on the surreal quality that remembered dreams had, such was Theodore's knowledge of suffering that his imaginings emerged from that ghastly sight. The house-elf morphed, growing larger as the toga-like cloth shifted into expensive silk robes with the embroidered coat of arms for House Nott on the breast until at last there was a man lying on the floor in the still repose of death.

She wondered if Tacitus Nott knew that he had kindled in his son a desire to see him dead as she looked at the taciturn man's handsome features frozen in pain. The face warped quickly though, bubbling and shifting until Nero's boyish face looked up with blank eyes; forever unseeing.

The face and clothes changed over and over again, tutors that had mocked and punished him were in various poses of torment; cousins that had pushed him around found themselves in huddled heaps at his feet.

More to Ariana's interest were those garbed in the familiar uniform of Hogwarts.

Neville Longbottom. Ron Weasley. Draco Malfoy. Zacharias and Sally Smith. Lilith Moon. Sally-Anne Perks. Hermione Granger. Iris Potter.

She didn't know why half of them were on Nott's 'hit-list' but the rest she could make a fair guess at but only two of those faces was she concerned with.

She withdrew completely from the boy's mind with the mental equivalent of a wet pop and watched with a kind of morbid curiosity as Theodore's face paled when he realized what had just been done to him. In a matter of seconds his face changed into a rictus of rage as blood rushed back into his head and an angry purple washed over him as he made to rise from his chair.

The blonde woman waved her hand in almost careless gesture as she shaped her intent and willed her magic to seize the child in a crushing grip that froze him in place as the air around him took on the consistency of steel.

"Well, that was delightfully insightful Theodore." The golem enthused with a gay smile as she stood up from behind her desk and walked slowly around so that she was standing in front of the paralyzed teenager, "You know I don't need to be a mind-healer to tell you that you've got some major daddy issues. In all fairness, Tacitus wasn't any different and we found his father in thirteen pieces; Devil's Snare can be quite insidious when you're being held under the Cruciatus. Really it was quite clever but one has to wonder if ol' Thaddeus felt it when he was pulled apart?"

Ariana leaned forward so that she was standing face to face with her captive as she smiled menacingly, her features changing to give her a decidedly bestial appearance as she looked into his expressive hazel eyes that had taken on a murky brown in his fear.

"Oh, don't fret little one, I won't tell anyone what's in your head. In fact, I'm going to do you a favor and give you some advice since your father has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of the situation you find yourself in." The woman let her hand trail across the teen's broad chest and smirked to herself as she heard his breath hitch as the fear in his eyes were darkened by lust. Reaching into the folds of his robes and extracted the boy's wand and held it between her fingers as she gave the boy a coy smile as she leaned back slightly, allowing him a tantalizing view of the pale flesh of her cleavage.

"Do you know why dear old Tacitus was one of Voldemort's top lieutenants?" Ariana's question drew Theodore's eyes away from the display of skin that he was enjoying as she piqued his curiosity enough to make him focus on her face. "It was because of those same lessons that your father taught you; violence, intimidation, ruthlessness, they're excellent motivators when applied correctly but ultimately they are the tools of thugs."

Confident that she had managed to ensnare Theodore's attention she perched herself on the edge of her desk and relaxed the spell that had held him in his arrested position. Without the spell's support he plopped down into his seat and he made no move to rise but she leveled his wand at his chest just to ensure his compliance.

"Thugs are exceedingly useful; you point them at a target and watch them go to work. I'm sure you've used Misters Crabbe and Goyle's services enough times to realize this so it should come as no surprise to you that your father and uncle were some of the best followers that the Dark Lord had at his disposal. That's what you are right now Mister Nott, a thug."

Heir Nott's knee-jerk reaction was to yell in indignation at being compared to the likes of Malfoy's pet bodyguards and to vehemently deny it but he wisely held his tongue at the look that Sinclair was leveling at him and the fact that his wand was spitting orange sparks at him. Swallowing thickly he nodded for her to continue as he struggled to maintain control over his composure.

Ariana let him see a pleased smile while she mentally scoffed as the boy illustrated her point, make a showing of power and the sheep move at the shepherd's command. He had little choice in the matter, he didn't have the strength or skill to take her on but he could have at least showed a bit of spirit.

Regardless of his failings, he was the best suited for the task she needed completed and thus she needed to play him delicately. The game of recruitment necessitated that she be equal parts accommodating and stern as she lured him in.

"I only said that's what you _are _not what you _could _be. I have high hopes for you Theodore; I see the leader in you that your father wishes he was. Have you never wondered why it was that your father has always punished you more severely? He told you it was because wizards are tougher, that as his heir you had to be stronger, you needed more discipline. I've looked into your mind Theodore and everything he said is rubbish!

"He came down on you because he fears you. He killed his own father and he wants to make sure you don't repeat history! He wants you broken and weak! He doesn't want you to be the powerful Lord that you have it in you to be!"

Even as the words came out of her mouth, Ariana knew it was a load of bollocks; the boy in front of her was too much like his father. Entitled, arrogant, proud; he had the domineering personality that made for a good enforcer but a true leader… he would never inspire the loyalty that someone like Grindelwald could or invoke the submission that was Voldemort's trademark.

It didn't stop the handsome lad from eating up her words like they were honey as he envisioned himself as he had always done, mightier and more deserving than anyone else. He knew he was destined for greatness; it didn't even occur to him that after rooting through his mind, as he knew she had, that she was playing him like a world-class musician.

Instead he had a cocksure smile plastered on his face as he sat his chair like a throne after she finished stroking his ego but he maintained enough presence to try to be Slytherin about it, "I take it that all of this come with a price doesn't it? The path to Lordship is one only you can guide me on and you need me to prove my worth. Is that it?"

"Everything has a price Theodore, that's something you'll find to be true no matter the circumstances. But to answer your question, no; the path to your future is something that any number of people can provide you the lessons for. Professor Riddle knows them as does the Headmaster but as you know, they've already hedged their bets on others."

"Longbottom and Potter!" The scion spat the names of his fellow heirs with disgust, it didn't take a genius with the way that the Golden Boy preached about Dumbledore all but doting on him as a grandfather to know that the boy had been picked to be the old wizard's protégé.

The Gryffindor Princess wasn't any better but at least she was quiet about it; consistently at the top in every subject she was in and practically a prodigy when it came to magic. It was an open secret that she had been party to Longbottom's Adventure back in their first year and that was before she came out of the dungeons a few months back with the Boy-Who-Lived holding her like a drowning man clung to flotsam while she had the panacea for the students in the hospital wing.

"Quite astute of you." Ariana drawled as she carefully laced her voiced with contempt, "One is a traitor to the Blood and the other is the progeny of a Mudblood abomination!"

The look of shocked surprise crossed the boy's face for a moment before his features were transformed into a feral grin; finally there was someone in this school that understood the right way of things and he said as much.

"Oh yes Heir Nott, there are many in our fair society that understand the plight that we Purebloods face but men like Dumbledore have too much power to openly oppose. His defeat of Grindelwald in the Great War has earned him the respect of many even as his titles in England have given him an unparalleled stranglehold over the Isles.

"Riddle is better in that he appreciates the strength of the Blood even as he is not pure, how the great Salazar would roll in his grave if he knew that his final successor was a Halfblood and a son of a Muggle no less!" Ariana's beautiful face twisted into a disgusted sneer as she let that information loose, it was a gamble of course; some of the Purebloods would see his ancestry as more important than his blood status but she believed that more would relegate him to a second-class citizen even if he was a war hero.

War hero, a laughable concept really, the Death Eaters had retreated into obscurity after Grindelwald's forces broke faith at the destruction of their Lord leaving only a few overzealous fighters bearing the Dark Mark to be captured. Riddle had made his claim to fame in the final months of the war as he hunted down the deserters of the Dark Reich, if only the fools knew that their 'hero' was really taking his revenge for the cowardice of his ally's followers.

Theodore was shocked at this information, of course he knew that someone had claimed the seat of Lord Slytherin in the Wizengamot and the Goblins had been joyous at the opening of one of their cold vaults but to learn that it was his Defense Professor… and that he was the most disgusting kind of Halfblood as well. He felt foolish that he had harbored such envy for the Potter girl for being singled out by the man for tutelage now that he knew the truth. How shameful it would have been to try to pursue an Apprenticeship with the man and have to call him Master.

Ariana smirked as she read that thought from the surface of his mind; the irony of it was truly delicious but she had to refocus the conversation, "So what's it to be Mister Nott? Shall I teach you to be the Lord you're destined to be? Shall I set you on the path that will crush your enemies beneath your heel? Or are you going to walk away and watch as people like Longbottom and Potter lead the Isles towards the ignominy of Purebloods bowing to Mudbloods as if they were our equals?"

Brilliant blue eyes watched as emotions warred across the chiseled features of the teen, she didn't need to wield the tendrils of Legilimency that she was capable of to know what he was arguing with himself about.

She was a witch, or at least he thought she was one, as such he had been conditioned to believe that as dangerous and powerful as she was; she was ultimately inferior to him, fit only for bearing an heir and worth only the sum of her dowry. He had to work against a lifetime of programming which was why she couldn't just drop a compulsion charm into his subconscious, it went against his nature.

His decision however was always a foregone conclusion; he was a creature with wants and desires and she was handing him the key to them all. She could practically see his ego swelling at the prospect of taking his revenge and thus knew the moment he had taken the bait, hook and all.

"Alright Lady Sinclair, I'll bite. What do I need to know to be this leader that you envision? And what do I need to do to acquire those lessons?" Nott asked after he finished his deliberation and looked up at the woman on the desk with a wicked smirk and a devilish gleam in his eye.

"Nothing that you won't enjoy dear boy, nothing that you won't enjoy." Ariana answered his last question with a cruel smile of her own.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So this is being posted a week later than I intended but I also went on vacation to Las Vegas for a week so I figure I'm still roughly on schedule. As always I hope you all enjoyed the chapter so please leave your critiques and questions in the reviews or feel free to message them to me. Follows and favorites are likewise greatly appreciated.

**Next Chapter:**_ Samhain _


	26. Chapter XXIII

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

**A/N: **Almost a year since my last update, my sincere apologies for the long wait but life has a way of getting in the way of things. In any case, I hope you all like this chapter.; if you do, I encourage you to follow or favorite the story and leave a review.

**Behind the Veil**

By StycianLeo

**Chapter XXIII**

**DMLE Offices, London, England**

September passed into October with little of consequence occurring, unless of course you happened to be the Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because Frank Longbottom was ready to spit nails at the next bureaucratic, parchment pushing, ink-stained dolt that walked into his office with a complaint or administrative rebuke.

The man ran a hand through his thinning grey hair with a weary sigh as he sat behind his desk looking at the men and woman who were assembled across from him on the other side of his cheap government desk. Amelia Bones, Head of the Auror Office; Rufus Scrimgeour, Hit-Wizard Commander; and Pius Thicknesse, Chief of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.

With the four of them gathered, the large office (well larger than most anyway) seemed cramped what with the bookcases and filing cabinets that ringed the room save for the window at the opposite end of the door that provided a view overlooking the Thames and Whitehall and the fireplace to the left of his desk that was Frank's private floo grate.

"Thank you all for meeting me this morning, I know you're all busy because I'm busy so let's skip the pleasantries and get down to business shall we?" A trio of heads nodded their ascent, "Good! Amelia what's the status of the search for our missing fugitives?" Frank's voice was thick with exhaustion but despite the heavy bags under his eyes, his blue eyes were focused with an almost laser-like intensity that was disconcerting to be under.

To her credit, Amelia didn't so much as squirm as she meet the man's stare; "We've got nothing on the Lestranges sir, the investigative unit found where the group made land fall after their escape from Azkaban but by that time they made the discovery there was no way to pick up the trail. We've employed several scrying spells and rituals but the best we can determine is that they're somewhere in the north of Ireland.

"I've already contacted the Irish Ministry and they have pledged to assist us in the investigation and are posting Aurors to bolster presence in the area but as of yet nothing has turned up. Odds are high that the Lestranges are hiding under the _Fidelius _and we won't be seeing them until they want us to."

Frank looked pensive for a moment as mulled over those developments, he knew that the Investigative Squad were some of the best trackers in the magical world; many of them were veterans of the Blood War and had honed their skills tracking down Death Eaters and Grindelwald's Knights of Walpurgis. If after months of effort they had only been able to isolate it to Northern Ireland then whoever was hiding the Lestranges had some very hefty wards.

"Wherever they are they still have to eat, have the I.S. look into the House-Elf Market in Ulster and start tagging the creatures. If we can trace them to a known property then clear it but those that suddenly fall of the grid, flag and plot them. I want these bastards Kissed before the New Year! You're up Pius, what do you have on Pettigrew?"

Pius Thicknesse swallowed audibly when Frank rounded on him as the Director growled out the last few words. Everyone knew that he had a personal stake in the investigation and had personally tasked Sirius Black and James Potter to hunt down the traitorous rat but after the disastrous searches that had been conducted on the houses of Wizengamot members, the case had been taken out of his hands and put under Pius's purview by Ministerial decree.

"Our Bluecloaks are working with New Scotland Yard and MI5 to track down Pettigrew's whereabouts. Our investigation hasn't uncovered any connection between him and the Muggles so it appears that the Davidson family was chosen at random.

"Scotland Yard put out an all-points warning on Pettigrew and the vehicle as well as his hostages but since there haven't been any reports of it seen we believe he is using a Notice-Me-Not charm on to get around. MI5 is combing through surveillance cameras to locate the car and track it but there are a lot of roads so it's proving difficult. We still think the best way to find him is to wait for him to go to Hogwarts and contact Iris Potter."

"To that effect, Dumbledore has updated the wards against Animagi and I've a team of Hit Wizards stationed at Hogsmeade around the clock alongside the Dementor Handlers." Rufus spoke up from his seat directly across from the Director, "I'm concerned about the hostages however, we know that Muggles who are held under the _Imperius Curse_ for extended durations can devolve into little more than drones absent of free will. Grindelwald's experiments never provided a predictive model for exactly how long someone without a magical core can maintain their autonomy."

Frank frowned at the mention of that Dark Lord's name and the ambient temperature in the room dropped several degrees as his displeasure made itself known but no one made a comment though Thicknesse attempted to draw his robes tighter.

Though Rufus didn't say it, everyone in the room knew what he was trying to convey; if Pettigrew had kept the Muggles under the _Imperius _for the last month rather than simply stunning them and keeping them hostage than it was likely that by the time they were recovered it would only be a few empty husks that made themselves back to Jeremy Davidson.

"My men are doing their utmost to track down the fugitive but he has proven far more capable then we suspected him to be. Even tapping the Muggle agencies I don't think we'll have much success in running Pettigrew to ground, he's staying in the non-magical world and with magic at his disposal he can literally be invisible. And he's constantly on the move even at night, there's no way to pinpoint his magical signature if he doesn't stay still for more than five minutes." Pius finished lamely as he folded his hands into his lap and looked at the director with hunched shoulders.

Amelia shuddered at the prospect as an image of her dear Susan, blank eyed and slack jawed, flitted through her mind's eye. With a steadying breath she drew the others to a different matter, "Where do we stand on this year's Gala?"

The heads of magical law enforcement loosed nearly imperceptible sighs of relief as the penetrating chill in the air abated as the Director changed the focus of his thoughts to something only slightly less frustrating than escaped Dark Wizards… politics.

"Not good I'm afraid, the searches that Cornelius ordered turned up nothing except for a few dark artefacts that the families were fined for and a couple minor scandals. So as you can imagine we've been catching a lot of heat for it in the Prophet what with our illustrious Minister throwing us under the lorry to save himself. Most of the Dark bloc have already rejected any invitation to attend and with the press we're getting it's unlikely that we'll be seeing a knut out of them this year."

Longbottom sighed tiredly as he mentally berated Fudge for the fool he was; undoubtedly the Minister had been given a weighty coin purse to issue those search orders and with the dragnet turning up nothing; more than a few families were letting their displeasure known. Now his name and leadership were being dragged through the mud and if it came to light that the budget of the DMLE was practically at the breaking point it could be the final arrow that Fudge needed to have him replaced by some thickheaded parrot.

And since the Prophet's chief editor was squarely in Fudge's pocket it would never come to light that the Minister had been steadily decreasing funding to the department for the last decade and increasing the funding for 'Executive Administrative Services.' The man had gone to the Wizengamot three times already to have his salary increased so it really shouldn't have been hard for people to figure out he was pocketing gross amounts of money.

For the past few years the DMLE had been surviving by drawing on its charity fed discretionary account; paying for the armor, potions, spare wands, and brooms that his people needed in their field of work. The Ministry appointed budget was just enough to keep his staff paid and to settle the tabs with St. Mungos for treating injured servicemen.

"The Light and Neutral blocs will still be attending but as we well know, many of their fortunes were significantly reduced in the last war. Like it or not this administration runs on the Dark bloc's dime and they've got a good enough excuse to keep their money to themselves and watch us drown."

No one needed reminding of the toll of the last war; just about everyone in the room had paid dearly in more than just gold when the battles had stopped. It rankled with Frank that even though the good guys had won the war, the ones who had suffered the least and had gained the most had been those wearing masks after taking a monster's brand. Somewhere along the line in putting everything back together, corruption and nepotism had infected the ministry and like a disease it was slowly threatening the agency that was supposed to serve and protect the people.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to stifle the migraine that he could feel building up, Frank waved his hand at his senior staff in dismissal. With his eyes squeezed shut he missed the concerned looks that all three sent his way as they knew his penchant for overworking himself. There was a running tally in the Auror bullpen of how many times he would be found sleeping in his office during any given week.

He waited until they closed the door behind them before he waved his wand and sealed his office, he slid open a drawer near the base of his desk so he could fish out a half-empty bottle of scotch that he tucked away and went about pouring himself a glass.

With a finger's worth of the amber liquid in a tumbler he strode over to the enchanted window that projected the scene of downtown London and braced himself against it so he could savor the fiery burn of the alcohol as it flowed down his gullet and spread a diffuse warmth through his body.

He remained in that position for several long moments, quietly contemplating his possible courses when his thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of flames in the hearth of his private Floo grate along with the accompanying whoosh of someone stepping into his office. He needn't bother turning around, only three people had access to the other end of that terminal and he one of them so that left his mother, the Dowager Longbottom, and his… wife.

The reflection of the beautiful russet-haired woman in the window alerted him as to just which of the women in his life had entered his sealed office. He had been wondering when she would appear, she often seemed to know exactly when he had locked his office after a particularly frustrating meeting. He presumed that she had bugged his office or at the very least had a spy in the Auror office, probably one of the clerks.

"You know that staring out that window isn't going to do you much good Frank, it's an illusion just like the rest of this administration. You've known for years what the answer is to this whole dilemma but you're too damn noble to do what's necessary." Regina met the penetrating gaze of her spouse in the window as she folded her arms across her chest as she took up the usual refrain of these post-meeting conversations.

"Good day to you as well Mephistopheles! I had wondered when you would grace me with your presence." Frank bit out with a hollow laugh as he swallowed the last of his drink and turned to face the beauty that he had been convinced to marry, to his everlasting regret.

"No need to be rude, dear husband; after all I'm not asking you to sell your soul-"

"Just my integrity!" The Director's harsh voice cut through the haughty rebuke that the woman had been prepared to give.

Regina narrowed her eyes in anger at being cutoff but her voice came out as calm as always, "What good is your integrity when the body that you serve is corrupt?!" Biting off the last syllable abruptly was about as close she would let herself come to raising her voice and expressing her displeasure. "You've got Malfoy whispering in the Minister's ear and slipping gold into his pocket to buy his Death Eater friends pardons and power! You want to protect people? Protect them from your boss!"

"Damn it woman, you're asking me to take his place! I've no desire to sit around all day and argue with a bunch of old fools over stipends and cauldron imports! Not when I've got the Lestranges hiding out somewhere and Pettigrew on the loose!" Frank seethed as he crossed his office back to his desk, hefting the bottle that was still out he measured out an additional finger of the potent alcohol as the woman circled around to the front where his staff had sat only a few minutes before.

Placing her hands atop his desk, she leaned forward and all but hissed her words at him, "Would you rather sit here and listen to your people talk about things you can't do anything about? You've barely the funds to keep the DMLE operational and that's with you being understaffed as it is. In the last decade you've hired… what a dozen new Aurors? For Merlin's sake Frank, you don't even have enough qualified trainees to make up for all the personnel who are retiring. They're bleeding you dry and you know Augusta isn't going to let you throw any more of the Longbottom vault at the problem when all you're dealing with is a symptom of the disease!"

Frank drained the second glass of scotch in one go and gripped the neck of the bottle to pour another glass when Regina's hand fell onto his wrist and forced him to look at her.

"Anybody with a lick of sense can tell that Cornelius is not up to the job! People have been content to let him get away with things because life's been decent these last years; the war's over! But you and I both know that it's not!" Regina's caramel coloured eyes bore into his with a fierce intensity, "Now if you won't step up for your own sake, that's fine but right now the man who _murdered_ Alice is walking free because a media spinning politician is wheeling and dealing. You owe it to _her _to step up now and put that son-of-a-bitch in the ground!"

Frank stood gobsmacked as he witnessed a side of his second wife that he had thought long dead, buried amidst the ashes of war. Regina Magnus had been a passionate and brilliant woman in her youth, striving to be recognized for her own capabilities rather than as the rich daughter of some Lord who could trace his lineage back to Charlemagne. The war had changed her, the woman who had served proudly as a Healer during Voldemort's Insurrection had left it all behind to become the consummate politician's wife.

He voiced a question that had plagued him for years ever since Dumbledore had convinced him that not only did Neville need a mother to look up to but one with the skills and connections that would help him to manage and utilize his fame. "Why?"

The smile that crossed Regina's face could be described as nothing short of predatory, "Because Healer Magnus couldn't fight Death Eaters, but Lady Longbottom could trade secrets and favors for support and make it harder for them to win the next war. Because Lord Longbottom, Minister of Magic could make it so that we were ready to face the darkness and make it afraid to look at the light."

The last time he had seen such fire in her eyes had been at St. Mungo's in 1980, Regina had spent thirty hours treating patients who had been in battle against the Dark Lords' forces and had only paused long enough to help deliver Neville into the world. Seeing that gleam in her eyes again stirred in Frank the vestiges of his respect and love for the woman who had been Neville's godmother long before she had become his step-mother.

"Alright Gina, what exactly do you have in mind?" Frank asked, using her nickname for the first time in years and bringing a genuine smile to her face.

"I'm going to do what I do best; host a couple tea parties with the right people and generate the support you'll need. I'll do a bit of gossiping and share a few of Cornelius's secrets with some more chatty types and when that storm brews, you'll just have to do your job. Dust off your dress robes Frank; I'll take care of the rest." Regina said as she took the bottle from her husband's slack hands and poured herself a splash of the potent spirit, lifting it in a silent toast she drained the glass and allowed herself to revel in the warmth of a hard won victory.

* * *

><p><strong>Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Chamber<strong>

In the expansive architecture of the Ministry of Magic, past the office of the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and beyond the Auror bullpen there is a courtroom. It is a lavish room, circular in design with a vaulted ceiling displaying an artistic rendering of the signing of the Ministry's constitution by the original Wizengamot at the final meeting of the Wizard's Council.

The chamber is ringed with three rows of seats, each row set on a progressively taller platform so that they could easily look over the gilt thrones of the tier in front of it. The highest tier, furthest back was reserved for those bearing the Order of Merlin or a Ministry appointed seat. The second tier was reserved for the representatives of the Houses that held the title of Noble or Ancient and had bought their seat with gold. The first row, set on the floor and bearing the grandest of seats, was reserved for those representatives of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses as well as the Minister, his Chief Warlock, and the Chief Inquisitor.

Above all of these seats was the viewer's gallery, a row of hard wooden benches that ran around the room so that the citizenry and reporters could sit or stand to observe the proceedings going on below. A runic array allowed sounds to reach their ears while the conversations above could not filter down into the chamber nor could any rubbish that unhappy people might be tempted to rain on the heads of the Wizengamot members.

It was there that Isabel Zabini tracked down her quarry of the hour, sitting on the bench quietly as he watched the furious debate going on below was a middle aged man with short cropped hair and a long, jagged scar that stretched from above his right eye down to his chin which gave off the impression that he was constantly scowling. As she sat down beside the man, she waited for him to draw his wand and with a complex movement established a privacy field around the pair.

"Buon giorno, Lady Zabini." The man greeted her politely though he didn't turn to face her, instead keeping his eyes focused on the assembly below.

"Good day to you as well, Mister Muldoon." Isabel replied formally as she settled herself on the bench and extracted the dyed leather journal that she had received in Italy. "I take it by your stare that he is down there." She stated more than asked as she opened the notebook to the page she had marked with a ribbon, the letters and image of manticore territorial behaviour shifting about as they resolved themselves into new words and pictures.

"Yep, though I'd much rather have him buried under my shed. Tacitus Nott is about as nasty as they come; Marked Death Eater, bought his way out of Azkaban with the Imperius defense. A bunch of hippogriff shite that is! He along with his brother were enforcers for Voldemort and since the war went cold he's been implicated in about a half dozen murders including those of his wife and father."

Isabel raised an eyebrow at the man as he turned to face her, letting her see his mismatched eyes; the left one was normal with a dark brown iris but his right eye was made from an off-white substance with a lustrous silver iris. It mirrored the actions of his natural eye but she knew that much like a certain retired Master Auror's that Muldoon's was more than likely enchanted in a number of ways.

"Why're you interested in him, Izzy? He knows you've been sniffing around about him and with your reputation he's got his boy sticking close to Blaise." The Bluecloak stared at the noblewoman's violet eyes with his own mismatched pair, the book in her lap glowing in his peripheral vision as his enchanted eye picked up on its ensorcelled properties.

"You know exactly why I bother with his kind Lionel, monsters like him are the kind that killed John and you know as well as I that some monsters need slaying." The intensity in the woman's eyes and the venom in her words made the taciturn officer look away as he conceded the point.

"I know Izzy but it's supposed to be my job to sort out filth like him, you shouldn't be involved in this kind of work." He stated angrily as his hands clenched into fists and he stared resolutely at a point on the far wall, "I told John that I'd make sure you were safe from sacks of crap like Tacitus, instead when I see him I'm going to have a hard time looking him in the eyes while he tears into me."

"The law can't touch him or the cani vili like him when they can buy freedom with blood money! What we do is justice, for John and for the rest because we can do what the courts won't! John won't like it but he was the most kind and compassionate of us, he was never one for violence but sometimes, that is what is necessary!" Isabel had taken hold of Lionel's arm somewhere in the middle of her impassioned words and was gripping the fabric of his sleeve tightly as she watched his face intently.

The man tried valiantly to maintain his stance, he knew that if he demanded it of her that Isabel would stop her quest for vengeance but he also knew that she was right. It was men like Tacitus Nott and his brother that had stripped Blaise's father away from him when he was still but a babe; in fact if Isabel had picked the aristocrat then it was more than likely that he was directly responsible for the death of his brother in all but blood. He knew he wouldn't be satisfied until all of those Maggot Munching bastards were piled into a shallow grave where he could watch them burn.

He heaved a sigh and nodded his head while he took Isabel's hands in his own, patting them reassuringly, "Just be careful, remember that's not just your life you're putting on the line here. If things go wrong, Blaise could end up paying the price for it; we're too far removed from Hogwarts to step in. Isaac will do what he can but a Sixth Year Hufflepuff isn't going to be able to do much good if they do anything in the dorms."

"I'm always careful Lionel and you know I'd never do anything to put my son in a position that he couldn't handle but this was always a possibility. When we decided that Hogwarts would be the best way for Blaise to connect with the memory of his father we knew that there might come a time when his heritage would be revealed and that he'd have to suffer their scrutiny.

"Fortunately, it seems that Blaise has managed to find the right sort of friends; while young Draco pales in comparison to his father he still has considerable sway amongst the Pureblood element and the Potter heiress has the makings of a formidable ally. I suspect that when those two are introduced to the Wizengamot there will be quite a rebalancing of power but for now they are the aegis that he needs." Isabel remarked as her passionate zeal switched from her desire to get back at the bastards that had taken her lover from her to the great love of her life, her son.

"Yes, compared to Lucius the son falls short of what you'd expect but his father did prefer the politicking over the rape and murder his compatriots delighted in, and Narcissa was never connected to any Death Eater activity. I doubt I'd ever trust him but Isaac thinks that the Potter girls are both about as straight as they come, so if anything it's probable that they're the ones keeping the brat's darker impulses in check." Lionel disliked the Death Eaters intensely but when you considered that much of the pro-pureblood agenda had been pushed through legislation because of Malfoy senior's gold and influence it only served to increase his enmity towards the man and his family.

He knew about the legend that surrounded James Potter though, the man had been a decorated Hit Wizard during the Blood War and then became an Auror in the succeeding years; he doubted the man would allow his daughters to associate with the Malfoy heir unless there was a very good reason. And Isaac was a very good judge of character, the boy had a sixth sense when it came to people, so if he said that the Potter girls were good folk then he had to consider that perhaps the ferret faced child wasn't the scourge that he had lumped him in with. He didn't like his preconceived notions being thrown out the window liked that, it made him… irritable.

Sensing her friend's discomfort, the noblewoman switched topics to something the old soldier would be more at ease in discussing, "What can you tell me about Lord Nott?"

"Besides being a murderous scumbag, y'mean?" Lionel asked, "Noble and Ancient, sits second string on the Dark bloc after Malfoy, Selwyn and Avery; he's been trying to take the lead but he's too much the thug to do what the others are capable of. Highly suspected that his family makes most of its money by dealing in the black market but the DMLE hasn't been able to build a case against him or his brother, so he's got a mole in the department that's been feeding him intel and he moves when we start getting too close.

"He's got a couple properties in Knockturn Alley; officially they're all leased to respectable businesses that while sometimes skirting what's legal aren't actually dirty. Unofficially, the store owners are all points of contact if you want to get a hold of something nasty and illegal."

"Vices? Anything I can exploit?" The brunette questioned as she matched that information with what she had gleaned from Atrax's dossier and filled in some parts of the picture that had been missing.

"After the Wizengamot session ends he'll retire to his private office here and indulge in a bit of a chat with his former compatriots. Then he'll head over to Melinda's, a bordello in Knockturn Alley for a meal, a bottle of red and whatever girl takes his fancy for the evening. He'll meet his brother around ten and then retire to his manor while Nero meets with the store owners to pick up any new orders." The Bluecloak reported from rote memory, the man had probably memorized the entire file on the subject and more than likely on all his known associates as well.

"How will he react if I try to approach him on business?" Isabel inquired, there were a few vagaries in the law concerning imports of restricted substances that were legal in other parts of the world that she could capitalize on to suit her needs.

"Tacitus doesn't go anywhere alone unless he knows it's secure and against an unknown you'd best expect that he's going to bring back up. More than likely, you'd end up dealing with him and his brother simultaneously so you're usual MO won't work." Muldoon replied almost as soon as she finished the question, obviously expecting the query and having given it some thought already.

"It'll have to be something public then, someplace where I can get him alone in the middle of a group of people…" Isabel trailed off as she considered what options were available to her.

"There's the Halloween Charity Ball that the DMLE hosts every year but from what I hear most of the Dark families are avoiding it this year to snub the Director. You'd have to make some pretty big waves to get them interested in it and if you did, you'd be drawing a lot of attention to yourself." His features looked pinched even as he suggested the idea of painting a target on her back but it was pretty clear that Isabel was rather set on Tacitus for some reason and he had long since stopped questioning her on how she selected her targets, mainly so she didn't have to lie to him.

"Yes, well… I'm certain that a suitable donation from a prominent foreign entity would be a worthwhile reason to get people to attend and once there they'll have to make a few donations of their own. We could draw him out and do some more good for the British Ministry while we're at it." The irony of the situation wasn't lost on the Italian born woman, she had a reputation for serially marrying and killing off her husbands throughout Europe and here she was planning on making a sizable donation to the organization that wanted nothing more than to catch her red handed so they could incarcerate her for being a murderess.

When Isabel finished snickering to herself while Muldoon looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern she waved him off and apologized for her sudden fit of giggles, "And on the second matter?"

"The only intel we have on an Echidna is a beast tamer from a decade back, she was a dealer in illegal creatures for the most part. Wound up getting eaten by a sphinx when she tried to force it to breed six or seven years ago; whoever this new person is they're apparently a ghost. There's been no word about a new player so either your informant is full of it or they got ahold of someone who is staying very underground." Lionel said as he pulled a scroll from under his cloak and proffered it to his companion.

The woman accepted the scroll daintily as she unwound the parchment and scanned the details about the dead woman, Tiffany Auslander. Widowed, childless, parents were deceased, no siblings and from all reports she was only a mildly successful dealer. No one had any reason to play on the dead woman's name or assume her mantle unless they were hoping to cash in on some of her contacts and customers but after so long being dead there was little to gain. More than likely it was just a coincidence that someone using the same alias had cropped up but it had been worth checking into.

"My source has always been credible and he seemed very concerned about this Echidna person. If you can, keep an ear to the ground and see if anything new comes of it; it could be for nothing but if my source is right she could be useful." '_Or dangerous' _She added silently though Lionel's gimlet eye said he had heard them anyway.

The banging of the gavel below them signaled the ending of the Wizengamot session and that they had run out of time; Lionel stood from his seat on the bench and tapped his wand against the lining of his cloak that caused the navy fabric to undulate as all of the wrinkles that had formed were smoothed out.

He spared another look at the beauty that remained sitting and loosed a tired sigh; he knew it would be pointless to try to dissuade her any further… not when even he wanted her to succeed.

"Tread carefully Izzy, your reputation is catching up to you and if things go sideways it's likely to get real ugly. I'll do what I can on my end to protect you but take every precaution you can." Lionel urged her quietly before he ended his privacy spell and with a tight smile of farewell he walked away.

Isabel followed the lawman with her eyes until he stepped out of the observation gallery, she knew that her actions weighed heavily on his conscience and that given the option he would bundle her up and take her back to her father's villa to see that she never stepped into harm's way again. Before she had lost John she would have let him too, but now; there was simply too much at stake.

Looking down at the people below in their plum coloured robes, she focused her gaze on the chiseled features of Tacitus Nott and could feel her magic rising in reaction to the stirrings of rage that simmered in her breast as her finger tapping gently on an itemized list of transactions dated August of 1980.

₲_250000 paid to Gri Kurt Işletmeler – Consultation on merger of Mediterranean assets with Aidyn Firat. _

Isabel remembered the burly Turkish man with his yellowed teeth and his perpetual stink of cloved tobacco. He was the fourth or fifth son of a prominent Pureblood politician in their Ministry, who'd had a penchant for hookah and little girls. He had traded on his father's name and money to carve out a little niche for himself in the Turkish underworld, separating foreigners from their cash and in some cases their lives.

His death had been remarked as a tragedy, a young man who'd died too soon from the vices that he'd indulged in with zeal. He had somehow managed to acquire a strain of potion-enhanced tobacco that was supposed to burn sweeter and stronger but had instead dissolved his lungs after paralyzing him. Isabel had watched as he had languished in agony for hours after she had explained to him that it was only just that he should suffer as he departed from the world.

He had been the first of her husbands to perish, leaving her with a modest fortune and business that had been absorbed by the Zabini estate. She still had arrangements for flowers to be placed on his grave every year on the anniversary of his death, sent the occasional letter to his mother too. The older woman had commiserated with her over the loss of her own mother and the death of her first husband although by the time her third husband had suddenly dropped dead the woman had stopped sending her condolence letters and instead had tried introducing her to a respected curse-breaker.

It was after her second husband had managed to drink himself into a stupor and drowned in his bathtub when Atrax had first approached her and offered her a proposal that had been hard to turn down. It was after her fourth husband died that she had finally taken him up on his offer and gained access to the resources that she'd needed to persecute her campaign of retribution on the people that had conspired to have John, the father of her child, permanently silenced.

The connection to the House of Nott had been buried under a list of front companies and banks but Atrax and his colleagues had parsed it out and presented her with their findings. So she watched as Tacitus walked through the doors of the Wizengamot and began to plan just what it was that she was going to do to make him pay for his sins.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts, Scotland<strong>

Hogwarts being what it was, nothing stayed secret for very long when a thousand students living in close proximity to one another get a hold of a juicy piece of gossip. So when rumors began to circulate that the new Defense teacher and a certain professor of Charms were putting together a Dueling Club for the younger students; it was only to be expected that everybody knew about it. So by the time notices were put up in the common room, there were few that were surprised and many more that were looking forward to getting some proper instruction after the inept display of Lockhart.

Iris had more reason than most to be excited at the prospect of having the chance to sling spells at her fellow schoolmates for an evening since it was her uncle of sorts who was going to be heading up the club and she was eager for him to do well. Her enthusiasm spread from her circle of friends to the Third Year Gryffindors and from them throughout the entire Third Year class.

It seemed however that the more eagerly the students looked forward to the activities of the evening, the slower time actually seemed to pass.

Though, that might have been because the morning's lessons were consumed by a double block of History which meant the being subject to the dulcet tones of Professor Binns. In most cases, the ghost's lectures were better than a dram of sleeping potion so save for a few eager Ravenclaws and Hermione; the class was whiled away by counting the snores of their peers.

Iris didn't mind it so much as she had long since mastered the art of selective hearing and was quite engrossed with one of her supplemental Defense texts. Well strictly speaking it was an Auror manual and it also wasn't technically legal for her to have it in her possession since it was heavily regulated by the Ministry but it wasn't anything a glamour charm couldn't take care of.

In any case it made for interesting reading, which was good because she really didn't want to have to hear the ghost's rambling on another Goblin Rebellion or the Hag Trials of 1740, though the latter had been somewhat amusing since it was that case that had led to the common misrepresentation of witches amongst the non-magical community.

Still by the time that Defense came to a close after an entertaining session of learning to handle Red Caps where Finnegan hadn't managed to get his wand out in time to save himself from getting bludgeoned with a wiffle ball bat, most students were practically vibrating with energy.

As the rest of the class filed out with excited whispers, Hermione took her time in packing her bags while Iris perched on the edge of her desk. Lupin's scarred and weathered face split into a friendly grin as he approached the girls, interpreting their hanging back as the cue it was. With a flick of his wand he had the door locked and a second had an Imperturbable Charm in place to ensure they weren't going to be interrupted.

Iris wasted no time after that in hopping off the desk and stealing a hug from the man who returned the embrace with equal affection.

"Everything alright?" he asked her quietly while she was in the circle of his arms. He felt more than saw her nod against his chest, so he squeezed extra tight for a moment before releasing her, "In that case, what can I do for you two?"

The girls traded sidelong glances at one another before returning their attention to Remus, "We just wanted to wish you good luck this evening Professor, from what we've heard just about everyone is looking forward to it." Hermione replied with something of an impish smile.

Lupin was familiar with that smile, he had worn one similar enough to recognize when someone was having him on, "Well, I thank you for the sentiment but I seriously doubt everyone is planning on being there."

"Well maybe not everyone but certainly everyone between Third and Fifth Year will be there," Iris remarked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I know Lia and Pol are excited to attend as well even if they aren't being allowed to participate. Knowing her, there's every possibility that they'll probably bring the Second Year class and the First Years won't want to be left out."

Remus did the arithmetic in his head and came up with just under half the school's total students, it wasn't everyone but it was far more than he had been expecting, "Don't you lot have homework or something?"

"And miss all the excitement? Not a chance!" Hermione retorted waving her hand in the air with a grin at the stricken look of the Professor, "I like doing homework as much as the next person-"

"-Only if the next person is a mad Ravenclaw!" Iris cut in with a smirk even as Hermione blew a raspberry at her.

"As I was saying, bookwork is great but putting it into action is half the fun of learning it!" The bushy haired brunette finished and leveled a glare at her friend, daring her to make another quip.

"I'd say it's all the fun in learning it but I'm not the bibliophile that 'Mione is." Iris muttered loudly in an aside directed to Remus with a wicked smile on her face.

"I didn't know you could use big words Potter!" Hermione declared as she whipped out her wand and fired a Tickling Jinx at her best friend, sending the girl to the ground in a paroxysm of laughter.

Remus sighed heavily though his wide grin ruined the stern figure he was trying to cut as Iris pulled her wand and managed to get out a jinx of her own that forced Hermione into involuntary pirouettes. The resounding shriek of wounded dignity sent Iris once more into peals of laughter, tears running out the corner of her eyes as she clutched at her stomach weakly where it spread to the helplessly dancing fourteen year old.

Not even bothering to hold back on his own laughter, Remus waved his wand in a silent finishing spell that left the two girls clutching their aching ribs as they recovered from their impromptu prank fight.

"Alright you two, better get a move on if you want to get up to the tower and drop off your things before dinner starts." Remus declared as he helped his pseudo-niece up to her feet only to get pulled into another hug.

"You're an awesome teacher Uncle Moony! You're going to do great tonight!" Iris's voice was quiet as her head rested against his shoulder but no less sincere as he looked down at her flushed cheeks and gleaming green eyes with their flecks of gold.

"Thanks pup," Remus said as he planted a kiss in her hair, "Alright you two beat it! And no breaking the rules!"

The girls nodded solemnly as they fetched their bags while he took down the spells on the door, opening the door for them the two teens stepped out into the hallway and in unison turned back to him and spoke the Marauders Maxim, "It's only against the rules if you get caught!"

"Then don't get caught!" He said as he tapped his nose and waggled his eyebrows before the two started down the hall. He watched after them until they got to the first intersection and disappeared around the corner before he stepped back into his classroom and stopped just as suddenly.

"I pray that you'll forgive the intrusion, dear boy, but I must admit to having the urge to partake in a cup of tea with an old friend." The Headmaster's smile was nearly lost behind the hairs of his long beard but the twinkling of his eyes made plain his good humor, "Could I trouble you for some company Remus?"

Recovering from his surprise at the man's sudden appearance; Remus closed the door behind him with his heel as he returned the old wizard's smile, "Of course Albus, shall we go up to my office?"

"By all means," The headmaster replied, urging the younger man to take the lead as he followed him up the staircase at the head of the classroom and into the office that had been allocated to the assistant defense professor.

The two men took their seats and settled in, Remus behind his desk with Dumbledore transfiguring one of the visitor's seats into a plush, purple wing-backed monstrosity. As soon as the headmaster had finished seating himself in the gaudy creation a loud crack sounded as a house-elf appeared along with a tea service.

After the elf set down the tray on the desk, the headmaster thanked the large-eyed creature which curtseyed deeply in return. "No need to be thanking Libby, Headmaster sir! Libby is being a good house-elf!" With a snap of her fingers, the little creature vanished with another sharp crack.

"So then Albus, what is it that you wanted to speak about?" Remus waited for his ears to stop ringing before he asked, pouring a dollop of milk into the fine china cup before he helped himself to the pot of tea.

The old wizard busied himself for a moment as he prepared his own tea (using more honey then was probably wise); his brow furrowed as though in concentration before he loosed a sigh and laid his hands on the table while looking at Remus gravely.

"Remus, dear friend, I fear that I am in a most difficult position and am in need of your assistance." Remus's eyebrows went up at the statement as he met the headmaster's blue gaze, the familiar twinkle absent from the man's eyes as they stared into the werewolf's own.

"You already know the ultimatum that Lily set before me and the reason why but I fear that her anger towards me; justified as it is, prevents me from going to her with my concerns as I believe she will dismiss them out of hand." Albus paused for a moment as he took a sip of tea from his cup, partly to wet his throat but mainly to see how Remus reacted to his words.

He was disappointed to see the young man school his face into a blank mask as he leaned back in his seat with his own cup and saucer cradled in his hands. To some extent, Albus was responsible for that behavior since it had been his directions that had led a quiet and intelligent young wizard into the dens of his werewolf brethren where weaknesses were ferreted out and exploited to gain supremacy amongst the packs.

Remus had been forged in a unique crucible, moving from pack to pack; ever the omega, while trying to discern sympathies and influence the packs away from the promises of the Dark Lords that had risen in England. What good it had done was debatable but it couldn't be argued that Remus was a different man when he returned, possessed of a quiet confidence that had not been there before and an ability to dissemble that few could match.

"So you want me to approach her on your behalf, present her with the facts that she would reject if they came from your mouth directly. It seems that we've been down this road before Albus and I like it this time even less than the first time you asked something like this of me." Remus said flatly, keeping his eyes on the headmaster as he sipped from his own cup; the amber orbs flashing a more vibrant yellow as the wolf in him made its presence known.

"I am aware, dear boy, which is why I would not come to you with this request lightly; trust that I've given this matter a great deal of thought." Albus winced internally as those words came out of his mouth, he did not relish the weak position that he was in but Remus would not take blind orders from him like James or Sirius would and Lily needed to hear the information from someone he could not command abject loyalty from so that she could be convinced that it was necessary he remain at Hogwarts.

"A storm is brewing and I fear that we are caught in the heart of it. As you know I always suspected that Gellert did not completely perish on that All Hallows' Eve but that he somehow survived his encounter with Neville. The last two years have proven me correct in that, seeing as it was his specter that has twice invaded this castle to sow the events that have jeopardized the students.

"After the breakout at Azkaban and the subsequent disappearance of the LeStranges, I fear that he is beginning to amass his strength once again and with a new generation of witches and wizards ignorant of the horrors of war; it would be all too easy for him to gather followers with promises of power and prestige…"

Dumbledore trailed off as memories that he had thought long forgotten crept to the fore of his mind; memories of summer days when youth had brought a sense of immortality and the certainty that whatever decisions he made were the correct ones. He had paid dearly for that egotism and learnt what the price of hubris truly was; his decades as an educator had taught him that all children had to learn such lessons but he dreaded what burdens his students would have weighing on their conscience should Gellert be allowed to whisper his sweet poison in their ears.

"So what would you have me do Albus? By your own admission the remnants of one of the most feared Dark Lords of all time was allowed to roam the halls of this castle nearly unmolested! Twice! If you could not keep him out and the keep the students safe before, what makes you think that I could convince Lily that you are necessary to the protection of Hogwarts when it is her daughter that has been handling that task!?" Remus barked out as he placed the saucer and cup on his desk roughly, cracking the delicate china and sloshing tea over his desk.

"I would have you tell her that without me here her daughters and the other students would be in far greater peril! Do you think it a mere oversight on my part that Gellert managed to slip through my protections in his current state? He has had assistance from within this castle and I know who his accomplice is!" Dumbledore retorted angrily, responding to the werewolf's loss of composure by loosening the tight reins of his control so that his magic swamped the room and pinned the much younger wizard to his seat.

Remus blinked in stunned surprise at the Headmaster's words and the sheer magnitude of the man's presence which had hit him like a slap in the face, forcing him to relax as he considered the implications of what had just been revealed to him.

Dumbledore took those moments to leash his magic and retract it once more as he stared coolly at his newest hire, the near ever-present twinkle of his eyes lost and leaving a chilly blue gaze behind. He watched as Remus digested the new information with a certain amusement as the normally composed wizard was caught out in a moment of a shock.

It wasn't difficult for the Headmaster to determine what was going through the man's mind even without the use of legilimency. Remus knew most of the teachers at Hogwarts from his own days as a student and now as a professor he had gained a further sense of comradery for the respected adults; to learn that someone that was trusted to watch over and educate children would actively aid a mass murderer in their quest for power was appalling.

It was nearly equal to the betrayal that he had himself suffered all those years ago by his dear friend Peter. It was clear to Albus the moment that his young friend came to the conclusion by the sinister yellow light that bloomed in the man's normally warm brown eyes and the fact that the man's jaw was set in a bestial snarl, the beginnings of fangs emerging as his teeth took on a wolfish appearance.

"Who is it Albus?!" Remus growled out dangerously as he climbed out of his seat and planted his arm on the desk to loom towards the aged wizard, claw-like fingernails biting into the wooden surface of the desk.

Dumbledore relaxed into his chintz chair and sipped his tea calmly, peering over its edge through his half-moon spectacles at the near crazed werewolf; the next few moments would have to be handled delicately if he was to wrest back control of the situation that he had found himself in.

"Calm yourself Remus," the bearded wizard ordered, magic leaking into his voice and lending the command a powerful, if subtle, compulsion to do as he said, "Before I tell you who this traitor is, I must have your word that you will not take any actions until I bid you to do so. Otherwise you will place not only yourself but Iris and Liatris in grave danger!"

The recent hire glared murderously at the old man as his inner wolf whispered to him that the twinkly-eyed wizard was just as much a danger to his pack's cub as this betrayer. It would be easy to claim that there was a predator that only he could defend against as the alpha if it meant his position was never challenged by the next generation. Remus quietly agreed with that counsel but urged caution, if Albus was indeed generating a threat to maintain his authority, it would not serve the pack to attack now before the quarry had time to run itself into exhaustion and made itself vulnerable.

With great reluctance the wolf that lurked beneath the skin acknowledged that there was wisdom in the man's words and it settled back, leaving the werewolf standing behind his desk as his features returned to normal save for a dangerous luminescence that lingered in his eyes.

"You tread on dangerously thin ice Headmaster, tell me now who this traitor is and what you know of his crimes," Remus spoke softly but the growl in his voice was easy to make out as was the silent _"or else" _that hung in the air.

'_And they say you can't tame a wolf,' _Albus thought to himself wryly as he took a deliberate sip of his tea as he looked at the Defense professor. "Tell me Remus, what do you know about your colleague, Tom Riddle?"

* * *

><p><strong>Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England<strong>

A muffled sneeze broke the tense silence that had filled the lavish parlor of Riddle Manor, diffusing what might have become a very destructive confrontation between the two Lords of Magic that occupied the room.

"Gesundheit," Grindelwald offered with a slight smirk on the aged and weathered face of the body that he was currently wearing. The young farmhand that he had inhabited had held up much better than he had anticipated but without easy access to unicorn blood, it was only a matter of time before his host began to die. As such he was giving his host a special send off for being such a fine specimen, which meant that he was indulging in a glass of very expensive brandy.

"Thank you," Tom replied grudgingly as he vanished the conjured handkerchief that he had sneezed into with a casual flick of his wrist before returning his gaze to the older wizard, that the man was looking at him with amusement irritated him to no end.

"You know, the muggles have a saying that when you sneeze; it's because someone is talking about you." Gellert stated with wry grin as he looked at the dark haired wizard who was sitting on the couch across from him. It baffled him who his companion managed to retain his physical prime, most magical folk lived exceedingly long lives compared to their inferior cousins but even wizards were subject to the ravages of time.

He was familiar with the dark rituals that existed to steal youth and vitality but they were often a bloody and time consuming business that was best left to old and vain. It was much like using wall filler to cover rotting wood; it covered the blemish but didn't really solve your problem. He would never bring himself to ask of course, that would be admitting that he was not clever enough to find the solution himself and he wouldn't give Voldemort anything to hang over him.

"The muggles also believe stepping on cracked pavement might lead to the maiming of their mothers so you'll excuse me for dismissing their inane drabble." Riddle said dismissively as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and took a small sip before continuing, "Returning to the point at hand, I commend you for using Selwyn to acquire the Hogwarts ward scheme but I distinctly remember telling you not to approach the Lestranges."

Gellert shrugged nonchalantly, "I deemed it to be an acceptable risk, you feared that their release was planned and that they would be monitored so the Aurors could catch them and any who gave them aid. I admit I shared similar concerns but I also considered who our adversaries are; while Dumbledore might have engineered such a ruse to draw me out there would have been no way that he could have gotten Frank Longbottom's approval to use such a ploy. Not when it would have allowed the likes of Pettigrew to go free."

Tom considered the words of the older wizard and conceded that his ally might have the right of it; still it was unwise to underestimate the lengths that Albus would go to too ensure that his plans went as he wished. For a man who was so devotedly aligned to the Light, the acclaimed Chief Warlock could use some rather sinister methods to accomplish his goals.

"While I see your point, I believe you are underestimating the depths to which Dumbledore will go to fight us. Regardless, the situation has developed into a considerable windfall; Bellatrix's knowledge of the Dark Arts is considerable and her particular breed of ingenuity will serve well in developing the resurrection ritual." Riddle mused quietly as he considered the vast stores of forbidden knowledge that the Blacks possessed. It irked him somewhat that he had never managed to gain access to Grimauld Place but between Regulus' and Orion's death, that mantle of Headship had fallen into Sirius' hands and with his hatred of his family the home had become the prison of his mother, Walburga.

"I thought similarly and I've also asked Rickard to further retain Healer Quadir from the Oasis Clinic. His medical expertise outstrips our own in the practical sense and he is a licensed Curse Breaker with a deep knowledge of the Dark Arts; between us we should have a refined model within a few weeks' time." Gellert hid his smirk behind his glass as he saw Voldemort's cheek twitch at having this information revealed to him, it was the nearest thing to a surprised expression that he was going to get. The irritated glower he received was an additional bonus.

Riddle didn't much like the idea of having the Healer added to the small group of individuals he knew the full scope of what was going on but between the magical contract, oaths, and the practice of Obliviating the healers he had to concede that the security risk was minimal.

"And what of our other plans?" Riddle inquired, spreading out the sheaves of parchment that occupied the coffee table so that he could better see the various runic arrays that had been placed around Hogwarts.

Lucius had indeed been able to acquire copies of the protections that had been placed over the castle during Dumbledore's security upgrade and as far back as the School Governors had kept records of the additions made by various Headmasters. Unfortunately such records only reached back so far and there were dozens of additional magicks that would only be discovered if they ever managed to get a look at the ward key that only Dumbledore had access to.

"As you predicted, Albus's lockdown policy has completely eliminated the chance for a night-time extraction so that leaves us only a day-time operation which poses significant risk from both the Dementors and the natural dangers of the Forest." Gellert stated his findings with a frown, "I must concur with you that launching any mission at Hogwarts is doomed to failure."

It was now Riddle's turn to smirk as he added another point to his internal scoreboard, it was a game in which he had a slight but definite lead and it pleased him to no end because he knew his ally kept the same running tally and knew he was losing.

"What of the girl? Where does she stand in all of this?" The blue-eyed man asked as he took another sip from his glass, not bothering to hide his interest in the topic as he leaned forward eagerly.

"While our plans of yesteryear did not go quite as we had hoped, with the help of the esteemed Headmaster she has had the push we were hoping for and opened her to the study of the Dark Arts. With her hatred pointedly firmly at Dumbledore and his machinations I suspect that she will make a worthy Apprentice." Riddle replied to the other Dark Lord's query with something close to delight at the notion, his mood was only slightly soured at the reminder of the recent interferences that had prevented him from continuing his favored pupil's extracurricular studies.

"Very good, whether she knows it or not she has already amassed a powerful inner circle; should she step into the realm of politics like her Grandfather there is a very strong likelihood of her becoming a polarizing figure in the Wizengamot." A pleased smile stretched across the face of the possessed man at the possibility of having a disciple with so much influence.

If only Albus could be made to see reason, the death of Ariana was tragic but it should not have been the end of their dream. Damn Aberforth for his pettiness! If not for his pettiness the world would have already been under his thumb but now… he stood on the brink of issuing forth a new era. With the power of Voldemort and Iris at his command it would be easy to take Magical Britain and then Europe; within a few years he could have complete dominion over the Magical World.

Voldemort raised his glass in a silent toast to himself as he withdrew his Legilimency probe from his former teacher's mind. The man was rather easy to read when he was lost to his fantasies; he would revel in crushing the man's dreams when the time came but for the moment he would have to set such thoughts aside.

He had more pressing matters to attend to, Halloween was but a week away and he had much to do if he was going to get Iris the training she needed to survive her foray into the realm of the Dark Arts. If he could not teach her personally, he would have to do the next best thing.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I know it's been a long time coming but here you have it, the latest installment to the story! I hope it was worth the wait since I know I've received a number of PM's and reviews wondering when this story was going to be updated. I apologize for the long delay but between my college graduation, job hunting and starting work; my life has been hectic for a while and not very conducive to sitting down and typing out the story.

I appreciate helpful critiques and all the support you guys send my way in your reviews! Cheers all!


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